


The Sky Is Illuminated

by WhereTheWildThingsWent



Category: Stranger Things (TV 2016)
Genre: After ep. 9, Angst, Astrology, Billy centric, Billy is a homosexual, But if it was really angsty and everyone is sad, Dustin being a massive science nerd, El is happy tho so that's something, F/M, I love my trash son but first imma make him suffer, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, It Gets Worse Before It Gets Better, Just a long story about a zippo tbh, Like get ready for gay(tm) kissing(tm), M/M, Max is angry at everyone, Mental Health Issues, Not just sexually but in general like what even is life, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Revenge, Slow Burn, Some saucy scenes in the future, Steve has an existential crisis, Steve is Confused, Will is not doing well, depersonalisation
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-01-13
Updated: 2018-02-24
Packaged: 2019-03-01 21:25:49
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 3
Words: 24,468
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13303551
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WhereTheWildThingsWent/pseuds/WhereTheWildThingsWent
Summary: "Who's Cooper?""Wouldn't you like to know."//Jonathan finds a lighter, but the trouble doesn't end there. Sometimes one answer just gives you more questions, revealing depths where you never expected them to be.A Billy centric story about what everything that happend between the closing of the gate and the snow ball. Includes sneaking out of windows, fucking in churches and a lot of star gazing. Angst with a happy ending. I get pretty real about emotional abuse tho so be warned





	1. Preface

“And God said, ‘let there be light'  
~~and then there was light~~  
_but it was about time that fucker learned that you can’t alway get what you want_.”  
Genesis, 1:3, edited by Billy Hargrove


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Jonathan finds something he is desperate to return.

[Hello, Is This Your House? - Explosions in the Sky](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=LPyrTovxCjA)

 

“Things may never get back to normal.” The doctors had said, the first time around.   
And this had been true. It was weird, for a long time. It felt like the floor had been swept from under them. Like everything that seemed solid had turned to mush. But they build a new common ground. As the weeks passed, there came a new normal. And it would be like that this time around, Jonathan told himself when he opened his eyes and saw nothing but drawings. On the walls, the floor the ceiling. This has to be over he thought, and pressed Will closer to his chest. This feeling of uncertainty, of floating with your feet on the floor. It had to subside. It had to get better. There was no other way.

His mother's eyes they wore the same exhaustion as his. Gentily, she brushed the hair out of Will's face. "We've got him back." She whispered wetly. Something got stuck in Jonathan's throat that stayed there for the rest of the night.

He carried Will into his bedroom, where they laid them down and tucked him in tightly. That was were he would stay for the next few weeks. Both Jonathan and Joyce spend the night by his bedside, just to make sure that he was still breathing and they wondered how many more times they had to watch their Will die.

Days went on and Jonathan tried to get on with it. He did as much of his homework as he could (not much). Slept for as many hours as his body would allow him (by far not enough). He made mixtapes for his brother (stacks of them). He helped his mom around the house.

Somehow Jonathan had convinced himself that if he wanted it enough, that things could turn back to the way they once were. His mother would sit down, his brother would get up and they could be happy again.

But as the saying goes, a man can want what he will, but he cannot will what he will. And Jonathan couldn’t will Will better.

 

This went on for a few days, until about a week after they closed the gate, something strange happened.

 

Jonathan was pretending to read at the kitchen table when his mother’s voice piped up from the other room.

“Jonathan?” The boy crunched his nose and let out a low squirm. He new that tone. It was her: ‘I’ve found a new thing to worry about’ tone. He put his book down, bracing himself or whatever it was that had his mother's inner alarm bells go haywire. She came into the kitchen holding a shiny little box. She had cut her hair shorter, to about an inch above her shoulders. It suited her.

“Is this yours?” She asked with a frown that matched her tone. Jonathan pushed his seat back and got up to take a closer look.

“What is it?” He asked as his mother handed it to him.

“I found this underneath the drawers.” It was a slightly tattered zippo, busted around the edges. Jonathan flipped it open and ignited it. Still worked.

“‘s not mine.” He shrugged. “Never seen this before.” Joyce sighed.

“Good. I can’t have you start smoking. We can’t all die of lung cancer in this house.” She mumbled under her breath as she moved back to complete the hoovering.

“Mom!” Jonathan called after her. “Don’t joke about that!”

“Sorry!” Sounded her dimmed voice from the living room as she turned the vacuum cleaner back on.

Last thing I need right now is to lose you as well, Jonathan thought to himself as he turned the lighter over. His eyes fall on an engraving. ‘Cooper’ it spelled in chunky handwriting. It was manually etched into the metal casing. Who the hell was _Cooper_?

“Mom?” He called, but the small tornado that seemed to come out of the vacuum overpowered his voice. He paused in the frame of the livingroom door. 

“Mom!” He called again. When she still didn’t respond he bent down to pull the plug out. The sound died to a slowing rattle. Joyce looked to the vacuum first, then at the plug in Jonathan’s hand. Her posture slumped and she shot her son an annoyed glance.

“Jonathan, what is this?” She sighed.

“Do you know a Cooper?”

“Cooper? No! Why?”

“Because it says Cooper on here.” He replied, holding up the lighter.

Joyce squinted (but of course she couldn't read it from this distance). She sighed again and shook her head.

“I don’t know Jonny. For all I know it could have been there for years. Can you plug me back in please?” Jonathan did as he was told and moved back into the hallway as the vacuum started roaring behind his back. They didn’t clean enough around here - until recently that is. But still, he highly doubted that something like this would gather dust underneath their drawers without anyone noticing. It must have gotten there relatively recently, but _how_? When did a Cooper enter their house and what was his lighter doing there? Jonathan looked it over another time before he put it in his jean pocket and went back to his book.

 

Logically speaking, this is where that story should have just ended. After all, it was just a lighter. There was no reason why Jonathan should be so bothered by such a mundane object that just happened to turned up at their house one day. After watching his mother's boyfriend get eaten by demodogs and performing an exorcism on his younger brother, you'd think he’d have a higher tolerance for the unusual. It made no sense that this was the casualty that was plaguing his mind. And yet it was. He couldn’t help but toy with it as he tried his best to play attention in Spanish class. Fumbling with it during dinner the same night. Flicking it on and off as he sat up in his sleepingbag at night. Everytime the light died, he still saw a blurry spot in the darkness, where he had been staring into the fire. Ghost of a flame.

There was no reason for Jonathan to become utterly entranced by the thing. It would be weird if he became possessed with the idea of finding the original owner and finding out just  _how_ this had ended up in his livingroom. Yet that is exactly what happened. 

Somehow everything about this felt incredibly important. If you care enough to engrave your name into something, surely it must mean something to you, right? Surely you'd want it back. But who _was_ this Cooper? Maybe Jonathan was just using this as a distraction for the big things that were going on. Or maybe it was because the lighter _did_ seem familiar. He swore he had seen it somewhere, but where? Jonathan felt like the answer was hiding in plain sight. In the same way that we always see our own nose, but our brain filters it away. The answer was not on the tip of his tongue, but dangling on by nose, taunting him. He just wasn't looking in the right places. Maybe he had just been thinking about this too much. He had probably been thinking about it too much. Definitely.

“Hey,”

His head shot up, bloodshot eyes caught by Nancy’s wary look.

“Are you there?” Jonathan sat with his mouth open for a few seconds, before glancing back down at the untouched sandwich in his hands again. Slowly the cafeteria cameback into focus again, bubbling with the voices of grubby teenagers.

“No, I’m sorry I wasn’t listening. Can you say it again?” He hoped Nancy would leave it be and carry on talking about whatever test she was raving on, but he also knew Nancy and his hopes were against the odds. She gave him that doe-eyed look as she leaned in, reaching out for his hand over their deserted lunch table. He let her. “How are things at home?” She asked quietly. Jonathan looked back down.

“They’re- fine. Nothing different compared to yesterday. Mom’s still hoovering.”

“And Will?” Jonathan shrugged, paused and mumbled: “Same.” Nancy nodded, glancing down at their intertwined hands as well.

“I can come over if you want? If I take Mike with me I’m sure my parents don’t mind. I could help out a little bit.” Jonathan forces a stinging smile and mutters: “That’s sweet, Nance but-” he shakes his head. “It’s not that we need the help.”

“You’re mom does nothing but clean and cook. She needs-”

“She needs to sort her shit out.” Jonathan hissed, immediately regretting it. His face disappeared into his hands.

A hand softly touched his forearm. He took a deep breath and rubbed the tears from under his eyes. He was just so tired. He just wanted to feel the ground under his feet again, but things kept shifting around, never resting, never settling. A few people were looking in his direction. Not enough to call it a commotion, but enough to make him feel exposed. Everything in Jonathan was tired. Not just tired, but deeply and utterly exhausted.

“Why don’t we skip fourth period.” Nancy whispered. “Take a walk. Get something at the dinner. I’ll tell Mike to go to a friend or something. Or I'll ask Steve to give him a ride home.” Her words kind of danced around in Jonathan’s mind, jumping in and out of line as if they were playing tag. That was until one of them stuck out.

“Steve.” He said, a lot firmer than he sounded just seconds ago.

“Yeah, he finishes early on tuesdays. I’m sure he won’t mind. Mike isn’t that much of a bother-”

“Didn’t he have a zippo?” Jonathan interrupted. Nancy frowned.

“Mike?”

“No, Steve.” There was something unusually urgent in his tone. The crease between Nancy's eyebrows grew deeper.

“Steve doesn’t smoke.” She stated, like it was a matter of fact. Jonathan’s eyebrows rose a tinch. Just not enough for Nancy to pick up that he might know something that she didn’t. So instead of giving a proper reply, he reached into his pocket.

“Do you recognize this?” He asked, handing the lighter to Nancy. She turned it over in her hands, studying the engraving.

“Cooper.” She voiced.

“Do you know a Cooper?”

“No. I mean, I have a cousin in Alabama, but I’m guessing that doesn’t count.” She mumbled as she glanced back up.

“Where did you get this?”

“Mom found it underneath the drawers in the livingroom.” Slowly the slots started clicking into place.

“It must have fallen out of Steve’s pocket during that fight with Max’s brother.” Jonathan realized. Nancy shrugged cluelessly.

“I don’t know. It doesn’t explain why it says Cooper on here. You can always ask I suppose, but I’m pretty sure it’s not his. I would have known it he was a smoker.” Of course you would, Nancy. That time you caught him at a party was definitely a one time thing, like he told you. Steve would never lie about something like that. Especially not to _you_ of all people.

“You can use a lighter for a lot more things that just cigarettes, you know that right?”  
"Like what?" Nancy mused. Jonathan shrugged.  
"I don't know. Lighting candles. A stove maybe?" Nancy rolled her eyes.

“Don't kid yourself. Steve couldn’t fry an egg if his life depended on it.”

 

//

 

See, he was right. The answer had been right in front of him all that time, Jonathan thought as he skimmed the hallway for Steve's locker. The hallways always got crowded near the end of lunch break. It didn't help that Jonathan wasn't sure he was even in the right part of the school. It's not like he hung around Steve's locker all day and all hallways kinda looked the-

“Jonathan,” Steve called, just as the first bell rang. “Hey I er- I wanted to ask you something. Are you free tomorrow? Afternoonish?” Jonathan was kind of startled at first. He was not really the type of guy that gets asked about he his friday night plans. People a) generally know the answer (being home by eight, listening to the Talking Heads and reading Vonnegut (or something)) and b) usually don’t care to invite him to (insert typical social teen activity here).

“Er- yeah. Sure.” He stammered, unsure of what it was that could possibly have Steve Harrington interested in _his_ weekend plans, of all people that were passing them through Hawkins' High School. Steve nodded, glancing to the side as he nibbled at his lower lip. He spoke softly, his voice still slightly stifled by the swollen nose Hargrove had crushed during their last encounter. Steve definitely took the worst of the blows. Although most of the swelling was gone, he still looked pretty rough with purple bruises and yellow edges blossoming over his face.  
“See I um- I told Dustin that I’d pick him up from the arcade at around- like nine. But- something came up so do you reckon you could make the drive?”  
“Yeah, yeah sure. ” Jonathan nodded absentmindedly. Whatever. That should work. Steve clapped him on the back a little harder than Jonathan anticipated.

“Thanks man.” He was about to turn away when Jonathan remembered why he had come to Steve in the first place.  
“Hey- Steve.” Jonathan called once he had regained his footing. The other guy turned back to face Jonathan.  
“I erm- found this in my living room yesterday. Is it yours?” Steve’s eyebrows quirked up at the sight of the zippo.  
“Eh, no I don’t think so. I mean, I threw mine in the gasoline to-" He lowered his voice to just above murmur. "to burn those damn _vines_ in the tunnels.

"So I really doubt that thing survived, let alone ended up at your house somehow." He paused, glancing down the lighter in Jonathan's hand.   
“Can I see?”  
“Yeah. ‘Course.” Steve weighed it in his hands, running his thumb over the wear and tear of the casing.  
"Definitely not mine." Steve muttered. His eyes handed on the engraving.

“You know a Cooper?” Jonathan asked.

Steve paused and admitted: “Yeah, there’s a guy on the team. Cooper Blake. I was just heading to practise, you can come with if you want. Get your answer right away.” Jonathan hesitated.   
"Eh, I- I really need to get to class as well, so- If you wouldn't mind being the messenger..."   
"Yeah, 'course." Steve replied as he pocketed the lighter. "No worries, he's a good guy. Doubt that he'll shoot me." There was a loaded pause. 

"You know, because I'm the messenger. Shoot the messager. It's an expression."   
"oh- yeah, I- I got it. Good one."

They did that awkward thing where they said goodbye and then discovered they had to go the same way, so they just walked next to each other in a semi-uncomfortable silence.

“How’s Nancy?” Steve asked suddenly.  
“Eeh- good. Yeah, she’s fine.” Jonathan replied. Steve nodded. They kept walking. The crowds in the hallway thinned slowly as more and more people left for class.  
“How is she handling all the- the shit. From last week.”  
“She doesn’t really mention it.” She hadn't slept through a single night, but it didn’t feel right for Jonathan to mention that to Steve.

"Alright. Well, this is me." Steve said as he stopped by the door to the locker room. Even from the outside, you could smell the sweaty trainers and musky showers, mixed with the general scent of teenage boys who use either not enough or too much deodorant. It was always one or the other. No inbetween. Jonathan did not know where he stood on this binairy. 

"Right, see ya." And like that they parted ways. 

Jonathan arrived at American History two minutes late, but was thankfully excused by Mr. Cranor as he was one of the students that at least pretended to be interessed. He sat down quickly in a second row seat and pulled his books out, doing his rather convincing impression of an engaged student for some one who is mentally elsewhere. As Mr. Cranor went on about America's envolvement in the Vietnam war, Jonathan's mind wandered off. He really thought he had it for a moment, but of course it hadn't explained the name on the lighter if had been Steve's. Still, he already knew that it was not the guy from basketball. It was a feeling more than a known fact. Until five minutes ago, Jonathan hadn't even known about the existance of a Cooper Blake at their school, let alone one that could have left his lighter in the Byers' livingroom. 

 

 //

 

Despite Nancy's efforts to get Jonathan to have dinner at her house, he had gone home straight after the last bell rang. His mother was on the phone when he opened the door. 

"-telling you I don't want them near my boy again."

She didn't seem to notice Jonathan as he closed the door behind him, making sure to be quiet as not to disturb her.

" _Trust_? Are you saying-I'm sorry, sir. I don't think you fully understand our situation. Those men- They _tortured_ him! They burned him and I told them to stop- I told them to stop but they _didn't_! He was screaming- it was- and they just kept going. No. No- If you think I am letting those men near my son again, then I take that as a personal insult." There was only a seconds pause before she yelling again.

"Listen, I am telling you we want. a new. doctor. We will _not_ be dismissed with some Post-Traumatic- _bullshit_ again. I want someone who will take this seriously." She paused. And listened. Spotted Jonathan in the corner of her eye and gave him that sweet mom smile-and-wave combo as he passed into the kitchen, offering the same smile in return. Jonathan didn't try to hide his eavesdropping. They didn't have secrets anymore in this family.   
  
"I- I need to stay home, so I wouldn't be able to come down. They'll have come here."

"Thank you."

"I'm sorry for yelling earlier. That was very rude. I apologize." She sighed, resting her forearm against the wall as she gazed down at the floor.

"Yes."

"I'm sorry again. You've been really helpful."

"Eh- yes. Five works. I'll make it work." 

"Alright, thank you. Good day." She hung the horn back on the wall and exhaled deep and slowly through her nose. 

 "What did they say?" Jonathan asked. His mother parted from the wall and immediately busied herself in the kitchen.   
"They're going to fax us some info on doctors for Will and then call around dinner time. If there are any good ones, they might be able to meet with us and Will. See if we can find some one that suits us." Jonathan nodded along as his mother pulled a bag of potatoes out of the cubboard.

She was already getting started on dinner. It was just four pm.

 

//

 

The drawings had stayed on the walls for a few days after they closed the gate. Joyce nor Jonathan dared to initiate the cleaning. They didn’t believe that the danger had passed. It was a Thursday when Joyce finally pulled the first sheet from the wall. She held it like it was a brittle document, that could pulverize if her grip was to stern. One last time she glanced over the urgent scratches of crayon, before she let it slide into a box. Just in case, she told herself. Just in case we need them. From that point onwards, the clean up became frantic. Within hours they had the whole installation down. Then came the hoovering. Dusting. Mopping and scrubbing. It was therapy. It was cleansing.

When Joyce wasn’t hovering over Will, she was working through some dusty box of things they should have thrown out years ago. Jonathan didn’t say anything. He did try to talk to her. About Will. About Bob. But she would shut him down. Start talking about groceries. About the airtime of some show she wanted to watch. She never actually watched. If you looked her in the eyes, you saw that she wasn’t really there. She was someplace else. That’s just how we work things through, Jonathan guessed. And so didn’t ask any more questions. He did as he was asked, helped out where he could. He did his homework, made mixtapes and slept when he could. But mostly he waited. Begging the new new normal to take it's shape.

 

//

 

After dinner, Jonathan cracked open the door to Will's bedroom. There was only one light on, in the other corner of the room. They had moved it there so that it was always dark enough to sleep, but light enough not to see bad memories emerge from the shadows.   
"Hey, buddy." He whispered, when he saw that Will was awake.   
"Close your eyes. I'm gonna turn on the light." Will did. And then Jonathan did. Will kept his head under the covers as his brother stepped over the sleeping bag on the floor and sat down on the stool next to his bed. Slowly the duvet lowered and the slits of Will's eyes came into view.   
"How are you feeling today?" Jonathan asked. Will's eyes were unfocussed. He didn't get a reply, but he stopped expecting them around day four. They sat in a comfortable silence for a while, just knowing that the other was there. Jonathan reached for a book that lay ready on the nightstand.   
"Let's see where we were, huh?" He spoke to his silent audience. He flipped the book open where an old post-it had been stuck between the pages and started reading. 

"Chapter 7. In the house of Tom Bombadil. The four hobbits stepped over the wide stone thresholdand stood still, blinking. They were in a long low room, filled with the light of lamps swinging from the beams...."

 

//

 

The next day at school, Steve confirmed what Jonathan already knew.   
"Cooper said it's not his, but that he'd be willing to take it over if you don't find the owner." Jonathan nodded, thanking Steve for the effort as he put the lighter back into his pocket.  
"How's your face?" Nancy asked warily. Steve shrugged. "Healing, I guess. Billy threw the fucking ball in my face yesterday. I swear he did it on purpose."  
"Shouldn't you have pressed charges? For the fight, I mean. You said yourself- he could have killed you." Steve scrunched his nose up (which looked painful) and shook his head, projecting a false indifference that was very transparent. At least Jonathan thought so.   
"He's not worth it."

Yeah. Sure.

"I will say though," Steve continued, irritation rising up in his tone, "That the bastard has ruined _any_  chance any of us had on getting a scholarship. I hate to say it, but the guy is wiping the floor with us."   
"Why are you worrying about scholarships?" Nancy asked. "You're parents can just pay your tuition, right?" Steve nodded, but there was an odd bitterness in his voice when he mumbled. 

"They will, but I'd be nice to actually earn something for once." 

It was odd, hearing Steve talk about himself in that way. Something about the guy seemed to have aged in these past few days. He was quieter. You could tell that something inside him was starting to shift and that he was still in the stage where it all felt uncomfortable, exposed and stripped from familiarity. Like when you get your hair cut just too short and you feel the wind blow through it in ways that it didn't do before.

Jonathan knew the feeling, because he saw himself in it. 

But what caught him even more, was that Nancy seemed to see all the same things Jonathan did. That and something other that he couldn't quite put into place. It was an image he couldn't seem to get rid of. The thought was like dust, lurking quietly in the air, waiting to settle down on him in the moments he stopped moving. The way she had looked at Steve in that moment. No matter how hard he tried, there was no way to get rid of it. It always came back.  

Jonathan liked to think that he was better than jealousy. But jealousy got the best of him. 

"What's up with you today." Nancy whispered. Jonathan glanced up from his textbook. Pretending to read was quickly becoming his new favorite pass time.   
"'m fine." He mumbled, lowering his chin again. He didn't see it but he could feel Nancy's mom glare on him.  
"You haven't said anything in over an _hour_."  
"We're in the library."

This was true.  
Nancy had finally managed to get Jonathan out of his rhythm of boomeranging from home to school and then back home. And she deemed the library the perfect start to the redemption of his social life. Clearly. But mostly, she needed to study for that biology test and if her boyfriend was sitting at the table with her, well that was just hitting two birds with one stone. 

'That was mean', Jonathan thought to himself.  'Nancy does care about me.' 

And this was also true.  
Nancy genuinely did care about Jonathan. She cared about his wellbeing. She wanted him to be happy. She wanted to be happy with him. 

The vast majority of people around us have the best intend. Rarely do they genuinely wish each other harm, because in the end, they just want to be liked. It's that simple. What makes it complicated is that two people can experience the same situation very differently. We have expectations that we don't voice to each other, but get upset when these prospects are not met. We are disappointed, but don't dare to voice these feelings in fear of upsetting the other. Scared to break the illusion that what we have is perfect. That nothing can ever ruin this. Until the distance between what we want and what we have grows wider and conflict becomes inevitable. 

Nancy asked Jonathan to tell her what's wrong. She put her hand on his again, like she did the day before. It still felt nice. He couldn't look at her.

"I'm just-" He bit his tongue.   
"I don't know if this is right."

"What do you mean?" She whispered, her eyes flickering over him.  
"I don't know- this. us." He stammered, desolately waving his hand.   
"Maybe it's just too soon after you and Steve broke up or- there's- there's so much going on right now and-"  
  
"Is this you breaking up with me?" Nancy stared into Jonathan partly angry, mostly scared. Exactly what he suspected. He pressed his lips into a firm line.  
"I Just feel like- If this - whatever we're having was supposed to be, we would already have been something by now."   
"But we _are_ _!_ We are having something. I thought we made that clear." She exclaimed frustrated.   
"Nancy, you know what I mean." She leaned back into her seat, crossing her arms over each other.  
"No, actually I don't."

A loaded silence settled between them. Jonathan swallowed as he ran over his words again and again until nothing sounded right anymore. 

"We've been here before, Nance." Jonathan spoke under his breath.   
"Where something big had just happend and it seemed like we've found each other- and- then life happens. I'm trying to put my family back together and then you go back to Steve-"

"I'm _not_ going back to Steve." Nancy insisted. Oh if looks could kill.    
"How are you so sure?" Jonathan asked. Nancy opened her mouth instantly and it stayed open. After a few beats of silent, she sealed her lips and glanced away.   
"What I had with Steve was-" She paused. "Different." Jonathan waited for a elaboration that didn't come.  
"Different how?"

"Because- It's was sweet and it was fine, but it wasn't- good. It was just good _enough_. We never had a reason to break up, so we just- didn't. But I see now that he is not the person I would want to be with in like- five years time."   
"And are you saying I _am_ that person?" Jonathan asked, quirking his eyebrows up in disbelieve.   
"Well, I'm trying to figure that out." Nancy shot back. Jonathan fumbled with the pages of his textbook. He let the corners run past his thumb repeatedly, pulling a zipping sound from the pages. 

"Do you really think that we- as a couple could last?" Nancy shrugged.  
"I guess it's too early to really tell, but I don't think we should be thinking about it that way I mean, geez. We're 17. It's not like we're getting married." Jonathan figured it would be as good a time as any to bring this up.   
"Well, it does bother me, because my family is just- a mess right now and it's taking a lot my time and I just want to know that you're really in it with me. I don't think I can handle it right now if you just figure out that you don't actually like me and then drop me like you did with Steve-"

" _Why do you keep bringing him up?_ " Nancy yelled, redness flushing to her cheeks.   
"Isn't it obvious?" Jonathan spit back, "Because last year, when you went back to him, after what he did? That whole spray paint thing? That hurt. I’m not gonna lie, Nancy. I was upset. For a long time. Because I thought we had something and now Steve is upset because he thought you had something, but you changed your mind about that as well. Like- I’m not saying you’re a bad person or that I don’t want to be with you, because I really do and I really like you-"

(That part didn't really sound convincing when he was shouting it at her in the middle of a public library)

"-but because of that I need to know if you’re really in this with me this time! Are you still going to be here when Will does not get better or are you gonna run of to Steve again? You break up with him and two days later you’re in bed with me. You can’t blame me for wondering- well, are you just scared to be alone?"

Nancy looked everywhere but him, arms crossed tightly over each other, tears trembling down her cheeks. 

"Lady, Sir-" Nancy jumped in her seat at the voice of the librarian that was staring them down.   
"This is a library." She spoke sternly, her pointed glare angled towards Jonathan.   
  
"It's _fine_. I was just leaving." He hissed and swung his back over his shoulder. 

He left without his book. 

 

//

 

The door clapped back into it's frame when Jonathan stormed out of the building. A strong wind howled through his hair. Droplets sprung up as his steps cascaded water out of the puddles on the parking lot. You could still feel the rain that had fallen that morning. It sat in the thickness of the air somehow.

Jonathan was rarely angry, but in this moment he felt ready to _burst_. It was not just Nancy. It was everyone.   
He was used to being overlooked, to being the least. Hell, in his early school days it had been his survival strategy. But as of lately it felt almost as if he wasn't even there. To Nancy he is a way to avoid loneliness. To Steve he is a way to talk about Nancy. To his mother he is a babysitter for Will. Will, who seemed to be the only person who wasn't instrumentalising him. For him it was just enough for Jonathan to simply  _be_ there. 

But he also knew that he didn't belong  _there_. It wasn't normal to sleep on your younger brother's bedroom floor. Something about that seemed so deeply pathetic that he had never brought it up to Nancy or anyone for that matter. Nancy, Will and his mother were about the only people Jonathan talked to these days. If you could call that talking. 

He knew he had been absent. He knew that he wasn't listening when Nancy was telling him about her day and he felt horrible for it. It made him feel utterly useless. And he was useless. He couldn't help his mom, who was working through piles of laundry instead of working through her feelings. He couldn't help Will, who was suffering through God knows what. He could only keep watch, lying wide awake in his sleeping bag at night. Their mother thought he just wanted to keep his brother company. The truth was that Joanthan was afraid of what Will might do to himself if he was left alone. He didn't talk. He barely ate. He was dying, right in front of their eyes. And Jonathan couldn't do anything. All he could do was watch. He couldn't talk to Will or figure out what he was thinking, whether he was even there, so instead he read to him. Tirelessly, chapter after chapter, to cover up the silence. To give both of them thoughts to think that weren't about getting well or getting worse. Stories were all they had to hold onto. But it wouldn't be enough.

Jonathan liked to think that he was a rational thinker. That he was one to think twice before he did or said. But right there and than, it that moment of complete disability, he felt like doing something stupid.

 

//

 

As soon as Jonathan heard that Hopper was in, he marched up to the door and swung it open so that the handle bounced back off the wall. He made a beeline to the desk and trusted the zippo down onto the wooden surface with a loud clang.

“Found this.” He bellowed, breathing loudly through his nose. Hopper stared back up at the teenager, his feet propped up on the desk, phone to his ear. He only looked a little surprised, mostly annoyed, mostly unimpressed. There were a few more seconds of uncomfortable silence during which Jonathan listened to the rustle of the voice on the other end of the line. Hopper smacked his lips and let his feet fall off the desk.

“Alright. Well. I’ll see what I can do. You’ll hear from me. ... Eh... yeah, tomorrow. Sunday morning at the very latest. ... Alright, you'll hear from me. Bye”  
With a lazy smack, he landed the horn on the hook and directed him himself to Jonathan.  
“So what's this about?” He demanded. Under the chief’s trying glare Jonathan suddenly felt only a fraction of the size he thought himself to be when he walked in. Jamming his hands into his pockets, he uttered a quiet: “Found that.” nodding to the lighter on the table. Hopper held his stare on Jonathan a second longer before he glanced down and picked up the lighter.

It looked so- insignificant in the man’s hands. And Jonathan realized just _how_ ridiculous he looked.

“Well done, kid.” Hopper groaned and handed it back to Jonathan. “Make sure to keep me posted on everything you find on the ground.” Jonathan couldn’t bring himself to meet the man’s eye. All the anger he had just moments ago seemed to have seeped out through his shoes, as if it were bird seed and he was a colander, leaving him feeling embarrassed and empty. He wanted to explain himself, but somehow couldn’t. Who the hell goes to the fucking head of police for a _lost lighter_.

  
“What are you doing here, kid?” Hopper sighed as he reclined into his seat. Jonathan couldn’t move. He felt sick. Stuck. It felt like that time Steve had dropped his camera. Or all the other times someone had picked on him. He seemed to freeze up, unresponsive until the thread had passed. ‘Maybe that’s what Will is feeling right now,’ he thought, ‘Maybe Will is stuck in that place.’

 

Hopper took his hat off and mumbled. “Alright, sit down.” Jonathan finally met eyes with the older man who gave him the smallest nod. “Sit down.” He repeated, quieter this time. Something in Jonathan softened and he lowered himself into one of the chairs in front of Hopper’s desk. Hopper himself got up with a loud growl, straightening his back.

"You drink coffee?" He asked.  
Only recently.  
"Yeah. Erm- black, please." Jonathan mumbled under his breath. Hopper replied with a stiffled 'alright' and left the room. 

For a minute or five, Jonathan was alone in Hopper's office. He stared down at the desk, traced the grains of the wood. He didn't think of anything in particular. This might actually have been the first moment he was truly alone with himself in at least a few days. 

The door creaked and a foam cup was placed in front of Jonathan. Hopper walked around his desk and took his seat, leaning forward and rested his arms on the desk, fingers intertwined into a fist. He met Jonathan’s line of sight, who stared back at him with a lowered chin.

“How’s your mom?” Hopper asked, equally as quiet as he had earlier. Jonathan frowned, casting his eyes down again. Again, it's always about some one else. 

“Fine.” He insisted, some of the earlier stiffness returning to his mannerisms.  
“She’s fine.” Hopper repeated, with a tinge of scepticism. Jonathan shrugged, staring past Hopper at the light that seeped through the blinds behind him. He wasn’t angry at Hop for asking about his mother. He was angry that he asked for her _first_. Because everyone was concerned about everyone but him. 

No one asked how Jonathan was coping. 

Hopper took a sip from his own cup and sighed.   
“Listen kid, if you want me to do something for you, you’re gonna have to start talking.” Hopper grumbled after another few moments of complete silence.  
“This is not really about the- fucking lighter or is it?”  
“I just wanted to get it back to the person who lost it. It’s dumb. I know.” Jonathan replied in a small voice.  
“So you marched into the police's office instead of just throwing it in the lost and found bin at school?”

Jonathan hadn’t thought about that. That was actually a pretty logical route of action.

“Listen, I know that everything that happened last week must have been hard on you. But you can’t start acting up like this. This is not you. You’re a good kid.” He paused. “Don’t lose yourself in the shit that gets thrown at you, okay? God knows I’ve made that mistake.” He murmured the last sentence under his breath as he slid his desk drawer open and rumbled around for a bit before his hand returned, wrapped around a ring of keys.  
“Anyway, I’ve got to go. Promised Jane I’d be home on time for once." Jonathan nodded and got up.  
"You're right. I best keep going. Sorry for bothering you." The Chief nodded, with a thin lipped smile.  
"'S alright. Let's just not make this a regular thing, yeah? Most kids your age that come in here don't come for a nice chat with a cuppa tea." Jonathan snickered at the last part and almost surprised himself that he could still laugh. He threw a final glance at the lighter before burrying it in his pocket. Hopper saw the look and added:                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                 
“I doubt anyone is losing sleep over that thing, kid. Just looks to me like you got yourself a zippo.” And with that he gave Jonathan one final pat to the shoulder before he walked out of the office.

 

//

 

After dinner (left overs from yesterday's beans, mash and gravy, because his mom had made way too much) Jonathan and his mother looked over the documents the lab had send them. Joyce had made it quite clear that she had no interest in working with the people that had prevoiusly been working on Will's case. The lab had tried to convince her that, really these were the people who were clearly most suitable for the job, since they were specialising in chemical make up and toxic effects of the Upside Down and had particular first hand knowledge of Will's treatment and developement up until that point. But very few things can change the mind of a determined Joyce Byers and so it happened, leading to this point where mother and son were reading through the files of all other doctors that seemed to qualify for Will's case. 

The reports contained mostly information that was either not helpful or that Joyce nor Jonathan was able to decode. Neither of them was very fluent in the sciences, most of the titles of articles these doctors had written, were riddles to them. But there were two who seemed to have experience with children and who looked rather friendly, so by the time the lab called, they made appointments to meet with both of them. 

Joyce sighed, putting the papers down. She rubber her eyes tiredly. Jonathan kept telling her that she needed reading glasses, but she didn't want to hear it.   
"I just hope we find some one soon. He can't go on like this." Jonathan didn't know how to respond or if he had to, so he didn't. His mother drifted off somewhere and they sat in silence for a bit as Jonathan kept glancing over things, not really taking them in. He knew he should call Nancy. Make up or at least apologize for leaving in the middle of a fight, but he wasn't feeling up to it. Tomorrow, he told himself.   
"Do you think it's- a mental thing or that maybe that- thing." He paused. "That there is still something inside him?" Joyce shrugged. It was hard to tell if it was the hour of something else that made her eyes bleary.  

"I don't know."

 

//

 

Jonathan mulled over Hopper’s words as he sat on the edge of his actual bed this time. The man was probably right. Whoever that lighter used to belong to, it probably didn’t matter. Jonathan had made a habit out of flicking it on and off and looking at the shadows it cast on everything around him. Somehow he grew quite fond of it and the thought that this would now be his wasn’t as unsettling as it had been before.

  
Choices - Kyle Dixon & Micheal Stein

When he looked up he was surprised to see Will standing outside his room. He wore his duvet around him like a cloak. His pyjamas looked bigger on him than they had before.   
“When did you get that?” He asked, his voice smooth and curious. Jonathan’s gaze flickered between his little brother and the lighter in his hand.  
“Oh- Erm, just a few days ago. Mom found this in the living room.” Will didn’t reply. After a brief silence Jonathan whispered:  
“How do you feel today?” Will shrugged, his eyes distant.  
“Alright, I think.”  
“That’s good.” Jonathan nodded, feeling something resembling hope bubbled up in his chest.  
“Hey, I was about to leave to pick Dustin up from the arcade. Do you want to come along, just to say hi? We’ll be back home in 20 minutes max.”  
“I’m sure your friends would be happy to see you.” He added. It sounded almost like a question. Will stayed silent. Two sentences. Eight words, Jonathan managed to get out of him that day. It was six more than yesterday. It should feel like progress. But it just hurt. Sometimes it felt like a sharp stab, right underneath the sternum. Other days it was more like a dull ache.  
“I don’t know.” Will whispered. He sounded tired. “I’m kind of cold.”  
Jonathan nodded, a familiar tightness in his throat keeping his words inside.  
“Yeah, okay.” Jonathan managed. “I’ll tell them you said hi.” He got up from his bed and gave his little brother's bed hair a ruffle. In return he got the smallest smile and a pair of doefull green eyes that followed him until he walked out the door.

 

//

 

It was a clear night. The heavy rain that had plagued Hawkins for almost a week had finally moved over. The street and the buildings were still heavy and wet, but the air was crisp. The seasons in Hawkins tipped over like an acrobat losing his balance. Stumbling, tipping over and plummeting down. From one day onto the other it had become winter. Jonathan could still see the clouds of his breath when he was sitting in his car outside the damn arcade in the freezing cold. He wondered how he would get through the winter if he didn’t get the heater fixed. He checked his watch again. Why were those kids always late? In his peripheral view, he noticed someone walking up to his car. Somewhat relieved he glanced up only to find that it was not Dustin, nor any other the other kids approaching him. There was a tap on the window, but before Jonathan could do so much as roll the window down, the door opened and no one less than _Billy Hargrove_  fell into Jonathan’s passenger seat.

Jonathan blinked a few times, but it was not his mind playing tricks. The sight didn't alter, nor did it make any more sense the longer he stared. Big Bad Billy had not only walked up to Jonathan's car, but taken a seat. Like they arranged this. Like they were something resembling friends. The boy snorted loudly before he turned to Jonathan.  
“Byers, right?” he murmured, low and languid.

 Jonathan nodded along, frowning slightly because why the H E L L was this asshole in his car?  
  
Billy ran his tongue over the back of his teeth. “Little birdy told me you got something that belongs to me.” Billy continued, staring Jonathan down.

What.

“My _lighter_.” He added impatiently.

 

Oh. OH.  
What?  
  
Did he even have it with him? Jonathan patted his pockets, relieved when he indeed found the zippo and was able to present it to Billy.   
"This one?"  
Billy snatched it out of his hand and muttered a crabby ‘Yeah.  _T_ _hat one._ ’ He reached into the inside of his jacket.  
Jonathan expected Billy to just leave now that he apparently got what he wanted. He guessed wrong. The boy pulled out a half empty packet of cigarettes and l proceeded to light on up. In Jonathan’s car.

Uninvited, to be clear.  
  
It was as if Billy took ownership over the space just by being there. With the way he fell down into the seat, reclining as if he was melting into the upholstery. Jonathan leaned in slightly to see the spot where Billy’s own ride was parked, a few spaces down. The blue camaro was rather easy to locate. You just find the general direction of the obscenely loud metal music and 9/10 you'd found the right ride. Jonathan's gaze was met by a girl with big hair and particularly annoyed snarl on her face. He quickly glanced away and shifted his eyes back to Billy. Jonathan couldn't admit to himself that there was something strangely fascinating about watching the boy smoke, in the same way that you can't help but look at the road kill as you drive past it on the highway. 

It almost seemed as if this, smoking, was the only time Billy was not in a hurry. He took his time getting the fire under the tip, clenching the other end between his lips. When it caught on, he tipped his head back and inhaled deeply. Something in the way he allowed the smoke to pool out between his lips looked almost- content. Not like Jonathan's mom when she did it. She was more urgent, almost irritated that she _had_ to light a cigarette. When Steve smoked he just did it to look cool. Billy didn’t smoke to look cool. He _knew_ he was cool. He just smoked because he liked it.  
“Take a picture. I’ve heard that you’re good at those.” Billy murmured under the next exhale. Jonathan realized he had been staring and quickly looked away. Not only was the air in the car cold, it also started to smell distictly of tobacco.  
“Is it true that you sneaked up to Harrington’s house and took a bunch of pictures while he was fucking the Wheeler chick?” Billy mused, smirking filthily. Jonathan’s jaw tightened. Fan-fucking-tastic. Of course those disgusting idiots had not forgotten to mention that to their new _king_. He was going to be Pervert Byers for the rest of his high school carrier. They made sure of that.

Billy’s elbow jammed into his side.  
“Think you could get me a few copies?” He asked, wiggling his eyebrows seductively.

Jonathan bit his tongue as he felt heat rise to his neck. 

“Did someone cut your tongue out or something?” Billy sighed, slightly irritated as smoke pored from his nostrils. “And what was up with those drawings, man? Is that like family time for you? Covering the whole house in some sort of maze or what?”  
  
"My brother made those." It slipped out before Jonathan even considered the words. Billy eyed him in an almost gauging manner.   
"Did he now?" He took another lazy drag before he added. "Quite the little artist, isn't he?"  
  
Jonathan mustered all the courage he had left to turn to the guy and ask:   
"Billy, no offense but why are you still in my car?" He held his breath. Billy raised his eyebrows. Jonathan raised his pulse. 

Billy clearly hadn't anticipated Jonathan talking back to him, but he did not seem more than amused by it. And then it finally clicked for Jonathan.

[Evil Friends - Portugal. The Man  
](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=-zpBbrXLxP4)Billy did not view him as a threat. Or competition is any way for that matter. Jonathan stood at the very bottom of the social hierarchy and Billy, well. Didn't he bring Hawkins High's kegrecord? Didn't that mean something to his kind? The point was that Jonathan was a nobody. Billy had nothing to gain from him. But also nothing to lose. He could just get into Jonathan's car, because he felt like it. Because it made Jonathan uncomfortable. Because no one was going to tell him he couldn't. 

  
"Damn, Byers. Way to treat a guest." He mused, almost-  _teasingly_.   
"But don't worry. I can tell when I'm too much." And with those words he swung the door open and slipped out of the passenger seat. His heels fell down on the asfalt. He hicked his jeans up, finished the last of his cigarette as he craning his head back into his neck. He stayed like that for a while, looking out over Hawkins' night sky. “It’s true.” He pondered after a drawn silence. “The stars are brighter out here.”

He doesn't explain. Jonathan doesn't ask.   
He takes a final drag. And there, for split second, Billy almost seemed at peace. Then he dropped his burned out fag, stomping it out with this heel. The moment Billy turned to walk away, was when Jonathan realized he hadn't asked any of the pressing questions.  
  
How did you know I had your lighter?  
How did you even know where to find me?   
How did it end up in my living room?  
But most of all-

"Who's Cooper?" 

Billy stopped in his tracks and slowly turned around, revealing the wicked grin on his face.   
"Wouldn't you like to know." He mused quietly before he spun on his heel and continued his way back to his own car.   
"My locker code is 953 by the way!" He called without looking over his shoulder. "In case you change your mind about those pictures!"

At the same momemt, the doors to the arcade opened and a flock of preteens spilled onto the curb. First Dustin, quickly followed by Mike and after him Max and Lucas. 

They all flocked around Jonathan, asking him how Will was and if they could go see him and Jonathan promised them soon, but not now. They all said goodbye to each other. Max was pulled away by her brother. Dustin was ushered into the car. The other kids got their bikes and left soon after. 

 

As he drove Dustin and later himself back home, Jonathan realized how silly it had been to think that he would find peace by figuring out who the lighter belonged to. Knowing that it had been Billy's didn't answer anything. He just ended up with new and more sizable questions. 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sooo that was it! first real chapter! I know that nobody cares, but this is the first piece of writing I've published online in maybe four years. It's quite thrilling to finally finish something. I can only hope you enjoyed it. Please leave a comment if you did. I have no idea if anyone is even going to read this. I know that's thrown a lot on here, but it totally is a gamble. You can spend a week or longer on something and maybe five people will click on it. Anyways, what I'm trying to say it that it'd be nice to know if anyone was out there reading this and made it till the end. I've already got the outline for Chapter 2, which is going to be from max's perspective. I'm very excited by the things that are going to happen. I hope you'll be there with me. Alright, time to send this baby off into the ether of the internet.  
> x viv


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Max is offered a chance to lay down new roots, but in order to do so, there is a boulder that's she'll have to move out of the way.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter two is FINALLY finished! I'm going to make the next chapters shorter, because this took way too long. Anyway, I hope you enjoy this next part. I dedicate this to my computer games teacher, because his course is taught me the only thing I know about 80's arcade games and I got to apply it in the opening of this chapter and pretend that I know what the hell I'm talking about. Enjoy!

"I told you, you shouldn't look at it so much like a game. It's more like- an interactive cartoon almost."  
"But why would you pay to see a cartoon in an arcade, when you can watch them for free at home?"  
Lucas had spent all evening trying to convince Max of the appeal of Dragon Liar, but she still could not fathom why the boys kept blowing their quarters on that sad excuse of a video game.

"Did you even hear me when I said ‘interactive'? It's like- like an Atari and a tv had a baby together. You get all the story from the cartoon, but you also get to influence what's gonna happen next. It's like you're actually in the story."  
"But you don't go to the arcade for stories." Max protested. "That's what's so great about arcade games, that they're so simple. You just do whatever thing it needs you to do without having to know why you do it. I don't need a whole backstory about why Pac-Man needs to eat those little balls and why he dies when a ghost touches him. It's just- what it is." Lucas smiled through her entire rant. Idiot.  
"You know, you should come and play D&D with us sometime. Maybe it will make you appreciate the story element of games a little more." Max scanned Lucas with an amused grin. He flushed and quickly docked her eyes.  
  
"Are you asking me to join your monster hunting party?" She teased, raising an eyebrow at him. It was kind of endearing, she thought, just how dorky these guys were. She didn't know their breed of nerd was still alive and kicking. Lucas shrugged, still refusing to meet her eye.  
"I'm just saying- If you would want to, I'm sure you'd be welcome." Max tucked on her bottom lip.  
"Are you sure about that?" She asked, still cynical, but quieter this time. She glanced over at Mike and Dustin, who were still bend over that abomination of an arcade-cartoon-hybrid.  
"Yeah, of course."  
"Do the others think the same, you think?"  
"Yeah, of course," Lucas replied, but Max couldn't help but notice the slight jump in his tone when he pushed the words out. The rise in his pitch said everything those three words weren't saying. Whatever, she told herself. It wasn't like she expected to even be considered part of their group, despite everything that happened. Heck, she didn't even want to play they nerd game. She totally didn't and she definitely didn't care. Max exhaled silently and glanced out the window, where she saw the blue Camaro parked a few spots down. Shit. How long had it been there already?  
  
"That's my ride." She hummed and turned to Lucas, who had also caught sight of Billy's car.  
"Oh, alright. Guess I'll see on Monday then." He stuttered, smiling sheepishly as he jammed his hands into his pockets. Max eyed him over and forced a thin smile.  
"Yeah. See you Monday, I guess." She was about to turn to the other boys when Lucas cleared his throat.  
"I- I'm just saying-" He stuttered, suddenly taking great interesting in the speckled glitter of the linoleum floor. "The last time a girl helped us fight monsters from another dimension, she was welcomed into the party. So- I don't see how you'd be any different."  
"Well," Max shrugged, "She has telekinetic powers and I have a skateboard and a bag of spoiled yogurt for a brother, so- I guess there's that." Lucas' face scrunched up in a confused frown.  
"What does he have to do with it?"  
"He's the reason you're saying goodbye to me here instead of walking me outside."  
She regretted saying it even before the words had very well left her mouth. It came out as if she was some brittle lady that had to be escorted to her chariot, which- was not the case. Nor was it what she meant. She had just thought that he was the kind of boy- the kind of friend who would do such things. But he didn't and he didn't have to tell her why. The silence that fell was word enough. So instead she turned to Mike and Dustin who were still bickering over who took who's coins.  
"Guys, I'm leaving."  
Both boys glanced up and gave her quick "Goodbye," and "Have a nice weekend."  
She glanced back at Lucas, who still stood there kind of shifty. She pressed her lips into a smile.  
"See ya." She said quietly and turned to the door. There were no footsteps that followed her. Which was fine. She didn't expect that anyway.  
Just as Max was about to push through the entrance door, something caught her eye. To the very right of the parking space, a car door opened.  
and Billy got out.  
But the car he left was not the Camaro.  
  
He just stood there, outside the car for a bit, staring up at- something. What was he looking at?  
Lucas took a hesitant step forward. He wanted to say something, but he didn't know what or how. Before he could decide on his words, Dustin already had his face pressed up against the glass, next to Max.  
"Hey what're ya looking at?" He bellowed, but his grin fell when he followed her line of sight.  
"Shit," he uttered, "Totally forgot the time! It's like nine-" halfway through that sentence, Dustin had already busted through the doors.  
"Wait, is Jonathan there?" Mike shouted from behind them and was quick to follow Dustin outside. Ever since Dustin had told him Will's older brother would be the one to pick him up that night, Mike had been eagerly anticipated quizzing the guy on the state of their bedridden party member. Billy, on the other hand, had removed himself from the car that apparently belonged to Jonathan Byers and was staring directly at Max through the glass. She exhaled, tightened the grip on her skateboard, but just as she was about to push through the doors, another hand touched the glass next to hers. A soft smile teased her lips as she turned to find a boy staring back at her. When they pushed through the doors together and removed their hands from the glass, Max took Lucas' into hers and pulled him along, into the cold air.  
  
Hawkins at night was different from the city in pretty much every single way. It was dark, quiet and instead of piss, exhaust fumes and dog shit, it just smelled like dog shit but mixed with pine and other nature-scents that she couldn't tell apart just yet. A soft, but frisk November air danced through her hair as they ran down the curb, Lucas' hand in hers. It was clammy and a little uncomfortable, but she loved the colors it brought to Billy's face. His eyes followed the pair intently as they ran up to Jonathan's car, where Dustin and Will were chattering with the older boy.  
  
"I'm sorry guys, I just- I don't think it's a good idea. He's very tired still." Mike ducked his head, woefully. Jonathan was clearly having a hard time handling Mike' sullen look.  
"Hey, he misses you too. He couldn't come along tonight, but he told me to say hi." Mike still refused to look up.  
"I just don't want him to feel alone." He said quietly, his eyes flickering up to gauge Jonathan's reaction. The older boy opened his mouth, confliction written all over his face but before he could answer, a deep voice sounded from behind the small crowd of children.  
"Max." Lucas' grip tightened around her hand. She squeezed back as she turned around to look into the impatient eyes of her stepbrother.  
"Let's go." There was no question mark. It was a command.  
"I'm talking to Jonathan." She said.  
"No, you're not. C'mon, you were supposed to be in bed by now." And without another word Billy turned around and started walking back to his car. Max rolled her eyes. It's Friday. She's allowed to stay up longer. He loosened herself from Lucas, wiped her hand on her jeans and said:  
"I better get going." The other kids nodded and chorused an uneven goodbye as she dropped her board and chased after her brother. She felt Lucas' eyes on her back as she zoomed off in an elegant curve. Fucking stalker, she smiled. Billy's lazy pace was easy to catch up with. When she did, she jumped off the board and kicking it up back into her hand.  
  
"What were you doing with Jonathan?"  
"I don't know what you're talking about."  
"I saw you leave his car. Just then." As they approached the Camaro, Max spotted a girl (who was throwing particularly annoyed glances at Billy) sitting in the passenger seat. Great, she thought, that would mean back seat for her. When the reached the car, Max expected Billy to just get into the car without replying to her accusation, but instead, he turned and bumped his back against the door.  
  
"Listen, I don't care what you think you did or didn't see." He mumbled imminently, looking over her shoulder at Jonathan's ride as it pulled out of its spot. "We made a deal. I'm not telling you who you can and can't hang out with anymore. You're old enough to figure out who your friends are and clean up the mess when things go tits up." He paused, licking his lips before he returned his soulless blue eyes to her. "But _in return_ , I expect you to stay clear of business that isn't yours." He held her gaze for a second longer before he moved back, opened the door and lowered himself into his seat. Max rolled her eyes and crawled behind the driver's seat into the back. When she slammed the door shut, Max was just about able to catch the tail of the girl's sentence:  
  
"-that weirdo's car the whole time?" She whined.  
"He was selling me crack-cocaine." Billy murmured passively, eyes trained on the rearview mirror as he checked for cars on the road behind them. Or many just checking on his hair. The later was most likely. The girl's jaw dropped when Billy mentioned the drugs.  
"Really?" She gasped a little too excited. Billy stared her down with big dazed eyes before uttering:  
"Yeah, totally." The girl did not seem to pick up on the taunt in his tone.  
"People have been saying their family cooks meth in the basement for like- _years_." Billy snorted.  
"They don't even have a basement." He mumbled as he put the car in reverse. She shot him an inquisitive look.  
"How do you know?" She asked, an eager curiosity in her voice. Instead of giving her an answer, Billy simply turned the music up and sped out of the parking lot. The girl sunk back into her seat, staring out of the window. Sulking.  
  
‘If you wanted that to work, you shouldn't have decided to date Godzilla', Max thought. She had no sympathy for the girls that let themselves be courted by her stepbrother. They fell for his bad boy personage, offended when he didn't turn to a mushy, romantic Don Giovanni in their hands. He had been right. They really were cows. When you order Billy Hargrove, you're going to get what it says on the tin.  
  
The ride home was mostly silent. Silent in the sense that they rarely spoke. This was mostly because some [hard rock metal](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=dKk21C63UFo) was blasting out of the speakers at the level of five hippos giving birth simultaneously. The girl seemed to make attempts at conversation up to three times, but Billy nor Max could hear a word of what she tried to say.  
Thanks to Billy's ridiculously irresponsible driving, they arrived at the Hargrove residence in a matter of minutes. He cursed when he saw his father awaiting them from behind of the living room window. Billy sunk into his seat, drumming his fingers on the headboard.  
"Are you in trouble?" The girl asked, only semi-interested.  
"Yeah, _probably_. Because this little shit took so fucking long we're like 20 minutes late." Max felt ready to tear Billy's head off. To avoid unnecessary bloodshed, she decided not waste another second inside that car. However before she could very well pull her skateboard off the back seat and leave, the front door opened. Billy uttered another colorful string of words as the silhouette of his father approached the car. In the poorly lit driveway, they would barely distinguish him against grey-green tones of the night. For the most part, it was the rattle of grit underneath his shoes that told them someone was drawing closer.  
"Care to explain why you're so late?" He asked, as his steps came to a halt only a few inches away from the hood of the car. Billy shot Max a pointed glare as if to say: ‘Go ahead,' but before she had a chance to speak, Neil jumped in.  
"No Billy, I'm talking to you." He insisted. Billy's jaw tightened. He sunk even deeper into his seat, almost disappearing behind the steering wheel.  
"Max was late." He explained, tone dull, eyes daring.  
"We forgot the time." Max added in a hurried whisper. But Neil only had eye for Billy, who stared right back at him, almost as if Max wasn't even there. It seemed as if there was a tightrope span between their glaring eyes, each staring the other down with a tension that was almost tangible through the frisk November air. Something happened in Max' chest when they were like this. It felt as if her heart was pulled back against her spine, adding an odd pressure on her sternum.  
"So?" Neil replied, ignoring Max' comment, "You've got legs, right? Did it occur to you that you- could have gone in and fetched her yourself instead of _lazing around_ until she showed up?" Neil's eyebrows danced cynically as he spoke. Billy bit down on the inside of his cheek, biting back the insults that were teasing on his tongue.  
"Why am I getting all the shit when she's the one who was late?" He spit back.  
"I told you to pick her up and get her home on time. So, that is your-"  
" _No_ , you said to pick her up at the arcade at 9 and I was there. On time. It's not my fault that she can't tell the fucking time." Neil took a step forward. Max took a step backward. Her eyes flickered between the boy and the man. They were like stray cats, hissing at each other, ready to lash out. It made her want to put her hands over her eyes like a small child. To _be_ small, invisible even.  
  
Neil's mustache quivered. That was a bad sign.  
  
"Inside." He ordered, low and impending. He was about to turn around when Billy spoke up.  
"Can't. I have to get Tina home." For the first time, Neil seemed to notice or at least pay attention to the girl in the passenger seat.  
"It's Donna." She said. Billy rolled his eyes, seeming (if possible) even more annoyed with the girl as she was with him.  
"And I thought we were going over to Carol-" Billy shot her a wide-eyed glare, but the words were already out. It had been just a whisper, but in the silence of the night, they'd be lucky if Neil hadn't heard them. The odds were against them.  
  
‘Wow,' Max thought, ‘she really is dim.'  
  
"Billy, a word. Max, inside." She didn't need to be told twice. In a few swift movements, she pulled her board from the back seat and made her way over to the front door. Although the distinct bickering between father and son slowly dimmed, the tightness in her chest barely loosened.  
  
//  
  
Inside at the kitchen table, sat her mother, sipping a cup of coffee behind some gardening magazine. She glances up and smiled when she noticed her daughter walk into the room.  
"Hey sweetie, did you have fun?" She asked.  
"Yeah," Max replied absentmindedly. Through the window, she caught a glimpse of the two men arguing out on the lawn. Once again, she could only see an outline. Neil from behind with his hands planted in his sides. Billy, one hand in his pocket, the other gesturing aggravatedly towards his car or maybe the girl inside it.  
"It was good," Max mumbled. Her mother smiled, rubbed a hand over the length of her daughter's arm. Billy was stomping back to his car. Neil watched how it pulled out of the driveway and drove off into the night.  
"Amanda called while you were away." Her mother said, excitement dancing through her words. Max tore her gaze away from the window, looking at her mother expectantly. "And?"  
"She had the baby." Her mother smiled. Max broke out into a delighted grin.  
" _Really?_ "  
"It's a boy."  
  
A little boy cousin, Max thought. Finally.  
Her aunt Amanda was a delightful woman, with a kind heart and a big mouth. Although she made for great company, she was not the brightest of people. After dropping out of high school at sixteen, she took herself all over the country and in the process, discovered her one true gift: getting knocked up by men who left her as soon as she missed a period. And so it happened that she had that night given birth to her third child, her first son. Although Max was beyond thrilled at the prospect of a cousin that would actually want to climb trees and build forts with her, the birth of yet another fatherless child meant that Amanda was now alone with two small girls and a newborn baby.  
  
"I'm going over there tomorrow to help her take care of Alyssa and McKenzie," Susan said.  
"Oh, mom, can I come?" Max begged, just as the front door slammed shut. There was some scuffling in the hallway.  
"No Max, we've been over this. I'm probably going to be staying for a few days and you have school on Monday. You'll get to see him before you know it, yeah? Just a little patience." Susan insisted, shooting her daughter a look when she let out a protesting whine.  
'It's not fair,' Max pouted, although she understood very well that this was the only reasonable course of action. But that didn't mean she had to like it.  
One convenience of moving to Hawkins had been that they were now significantly closer to her mother's sister, who had settled in Indianapolis a few years ago. They had already made the drive a few times since they had moved here. She would see him at least by the end of this month.  
"Max, shoes in the hallway, remember? We talked about this." Neil sighed from behind her as he wandered into the kitchen, ruffling her hair when he walked by. There was nothing left of the malice he had used to speak to Billy. To Max, he talked like an adult ought to speak to a preteen. With patience and authority.  
"Yeah, ‘m sorry," Max said and bend down to pull her sneakers off. Her mother sighed, putting her magazine down again.  
"Maxine, loosen your laces. Come on, we bought those new."  
Max rolled her eyes, hidden behind a red curtain of beach waves. She wailed a pubescent ‘ýeaah moooom' before she dropped the shoes off in the hallway. She asked if she could at the very least call her aunt, but both parents insisted that it was bedtime, that Amanda needed all the rest she could get right now and that Max could call her first thing in the morning.  
  
Max was already lying in bed, teeth brushed and hair washed when the familiar roar of the Camaro drew up to the house. There was the sound of doors opening and slamming shut. A rustle in the hallways. Dimmed voices, one louder than the other.  
  
Max didn't like Billy. He was mean, cocky and unpredictable. Somehow, he always seemed on the verge of explosion, like he was actually looking for a trigger to set him off, an excuse to bestow his rage onto the nearest target. For all Max knew, he had always been like that. Even at fifteen when she first met him, he seemed to have an aversion towards the vast majority of the people and an inexplicable need to rebel. Although Billy had been a troublemaker for as long as Max had known him, something seemed to have shifted inside of him a few months ago. What had previously been your average nasty stepbrother behavior, had now been twisted into an inexplicable anger in what seemed like a matter of weeks. His emotions seemed both deeper and more shallow. Like he was more, but also less of himself.  
  
Her mother had told her that this was just a phase that Billy was going through. That when you're a teenager, with all these hormones surging through your body, all your emotions become heightened. She read that somewhere. He was just figuring out who he was, she told Max. That was all.  
But Billy seemed to know exactly who he was and who he set out to be. King of the mouthbreathers. Billy was the kind of guy that left girls like Amanda alone with their baby.  
  
//  
  
"I'm sure Elliot is going to love you, sweetie. It will be so nice to see you again."  
"Yeah, I can't wait to see him." Max smiled into the phone.  
"Hey, maybe your mom can take you here next weekend! Hopefully, things will have settled a bit and Elli will probably be a little less purple. Little prune of a thing he is. You know, I keep forgetting how wrinkly they are when they come out. Anyway, I'm rambling, sorry dear. Could you hand me to your mom? We just need to talk over a few things."  
"Oh, sure," Max replied, waving her mother over, who swiftly got out of her seat and hurried over to the phone.  
"Alright, see you soon, Maxie!"  
"Bye!" Her mom was quick to take over the horn and Max returned to the breakfast table. It was currently just her and her mom, as Neil had left for an early shift and Billy hadn't yet risen from his bed. Or at least so they thought. Moments after Max had helped herself to a second bowl of cereal while her mother was distracted, the devil himself sauntered into the kitchen.  
  
"Max," Billy called as he made his way over to the fridge, wearing an old band tee and a pair of gym shorts. Max was pretty sure he slept naked, but at least he had the courtesy to cover his junk before he entered the shared spaces. "Post for you." He threw a folded piece of paper onto the table as he continued walking with the remaining letters in his hands. 'Folded' in the sense that the paper was creased, but seemed to have been unfolded before Max had gotten the chance to do it herself. Her eyes darted back to Billy, who had dumped the rest of the post onto the counter and was now bend over the fridge. He came back up, holding a carton of milk and bringing it directly to his lips.  
"Billy, use a glass. Come on." Susan sighed, covering the phone with her hand. The boy just shook the last drops out of the carton and said, with his most angelic blank stare: "I was just finishing it," voice dripping of faux innocence. Susan shook her head and returned to her call as Billy cracked out a new carton. He showed the decency to get out a glass this time, believe it or not. Max picked up the note that had nearly landed between her Waffelos. It had been ripped out of an A4 school binder it seemed, with just one sentence standing on its own in the middle of the paper.  
  
  
_‘Meet us in the Hidden Glade at solar noon'_  
  
  
The Hidden Glade? Max thought. Where the hell was that supposed to be? Were they talking about the junkyard?  
Then she noticed the smaller writing at the bottom of the page  
  
_(That's Mike's backyard)_  
  
Below that was an address and then even lower  
  
_(Solar noon is just regular noon. It's when the sun is at it's highest. )_

Max stared at the note, not really knowing what to think of it. Like- where do you start? Unexpected post is exciting in general, but next to her burning curiosity she also felt a little... embarrassed. Why did they need to be cryptic like this? It wasn't even a real riddle because they just gave everything away at the end. Why not write:  
  
  
_'Maple street at 12. See ya there xoxo'_

  
You know, like  _normal_ people would.  
She folded the note back up again and placed it next to her bowl of cereal. What did those guys come up with that they needed her for? Was it an Upside Down related emergency? Were they simply inviting her over for a Dungeons and Dragons thing, like Lucas had talked about the night before? She had no way of knowing. Last night at the arcade had been kind of weird. It was fun, that was not the issue. But throughout the whole evening, she had this odd inkling that she was too cool for them, but that at the same time they were too cool for her and she was still figuring out how both those feelings felt entirely valid at the same time. How could it be that she felt aversed and simultaneously drawn to their little nerd gang? Maybe she actually started to like the stalkers. All we know for certain is that Max had no doubt about whether or not she should be at the Hidden Glade at solar noon on that particular Saturday. It was a given.  
  
"I'm going to do some shopping for Amanda before I go. Do you want to come with? You can pick out a little present for Elliot if you want." Max shook no.  
"No, I'm going over to a friend." She said, tucking the paper away in her pocket.  
"Really? Is it one of the boys you went to the arcade with?"  
"Yeah, erm. His name is Mike. The others will be there as well probably." Her mother nodded, smiling knowingly over her breakfast. She put her toast down, leaned in just a little and whispered: "Is Mike nice?" In her blue eyes shone with an unusual twinkle. Max eyed her up and down and replied a hesitant "I guess?.." and tried to refocus on her drowning cereal. Susan nodded again, holding onto the same content smile. "Alright," she chirped, seeming very giddy about something. "Do you need a ride? I'm sure Billy-"  
"No!" She yelled, a little too quickly. Billy caught her with an amused grin and she glared back. The last thing she needed was a rerun of the disastrous events of last week when Billy barged in at a _particularly_ inconvenient time and ended up slamming Lucas into the wall and beating Steve's face in. So no. If it really had something to do with the Upside Down, she needed him to stay the fuck away from it.  
  
"Oh." Susan nodded, eyeing the two teens over. "Alright. Is it nearby?" Max bit her lip.  
"I don't know. Where's Maple Street?"  
  
It turned out to be quite the walk. Susan made a whole deal of showing Max exactly which streets she needed to take, but it turned out that Mike lived in one of the nicer  
neighborhoods, relatively close to their school. It explained why he usually walked or cycled home, instead of taking the bus or being dropped off by an older sibling, like Max. She would probably be able to find the way just following the route Billy usually took to drop her off.  
  
Just as she ran up the stairs, finally having convinced her mother that she would be fine on her own, she saw Billy leave the bathroom, towel on his hips, muttering quietly to himself. "Hey!" She called. He raised his brows, seeming surprised but unbothered when he found Max darting over to his end of the hallway. His hair was towel dried and messy, falling in loose ringlet across his forehead. He reeked of a musky sort of body wash that smelled kind of dirty, but in the way that was deemed suitable for men.  
"I know you read that note," Max said. It might have sounded intimidating if Billy hadn't been a head higher and a chest wider than she was.  
"Yeah, so." He mumbled with a dismissive shrug. Max paused. She didn't really know what she had expected him to say. She didn't even remember what her point was.  
"Just- don't follow me there." She said. Billy huffed and smiled, although I wouldn't call it smiling. It was more of a scowl as if he just sniffed one of his own particularly sour smelling gym socks. Max swallowed. Slowly he loosened his jaw and grumbled: "Don't flatter yourself. I really couldn't give two shits about the shenanigans that you and the outcasts get up to." He broke his impending glare away from Max and pushed past her, disappearing into his room.  
  
//  
  
[We Do It Different On The West Coast - The Mountain Goats](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=T5NfqhuwdEw)  
"Honey, are you sure you want to skate all the way over there?" Susan asked, wrapping another scarf around her daughter.  
"Yes mom, I'm fine ." Max protested, pushing the scarf down in order to squeeze the words out. "I don't need all of this." Susan sighed and held her daughter's gaze. "Honey, it's 45 degrees outside. Just because Billy walks around with his shirt open, does not mean you should do the same."  
"I can hear you!" It sounded from the other room.  
"Good! Maybe take note. You'll catch a pneumonia one of these days." Susan called back, but you could hear her smiling through the words. Billy's figure appeared in the door frame, lazily leaning up against it.  
"Sounds good, where do I sign up?" He grinned. It seemed to be a genuine smile, not one riddled with malice or taunt. Which, to be fair, did not happen a lot.  
"Sure you don't need a ride?" He irked, raising his brow cockily. What was up with that boy? He could be so fickle. One moment he seemed ready to eat your guts, the next he'd be woofing at your ankles like a rowdy puppy. You never knew where you stood with him.  
"No thanks, I'm skating." Max retorted, strapping her shoes on. It was a lot more work when you don't untie your shoes before you take them off. Her mother was right about something. Billy knocked twice against the wooden frame, uttered a ‘Suit yourself' before he disappeared back into the living room, where the tv was blasting some sports match at max volume. How he heard them talk about that level of noise is beyond Max.  
"Will you be back by dinnertime you think?" Her mother asked. Max shrugged.  
"I don't know. I'll call okay?"  
"Alright, what did you say their names were again?" Max sighed, eyeing the door impatiently.  
"Lucas, Dustin and Mike."  
"Right, that's right." Her mom mumbled quietly and straightened up to her full height.  
"Alright honey, have fun." She said and opened the front door.  
"Bye, mom," Max replied, rushing the words and then rushed out the door. It was already twenty to twelve. She would have to hurry. Somewhere behind her, she heard her mother's voice calling after her, something that she didn't quite catch as she zoomed down the street. It probably wasn't that important, she knew from experience.  
  
Max loved her mother. She was like any other American suburban mom, loving, caring, with a tendency to overthink. Ever since her parents broke up when Max had been about four, it had been her and her mom and they got by just fine. They had a shared love for cinema, although their taste somewhat varied. Most Saturdays, Max was send out to pick something up from the BlockBuster down the street. They would swaddle up next to each other with popcorn and a blanket and watch whatever Max had picked out. That was their life together and it was good.  
  
Max' parents still didn't quite see eye to eye, but she went to her dad's every other weekend and that transaction usually took place quite civilly. Her father had a motor shop back in San Francisco. She loved to sit on his work table and watch him tinker with the engines. In those stolen moments, he had taught her how to drive in the parking lot out back, a skill that had proven its value last week when they needed a way out of the Byers house.  
Max thought about her father as she rolled down the sleepy streets of Hawkins. She hadn't seen him in almost two months. It was probably going to be another two before she'd get a chance to go back. Or for him to come here. But Max wasn't the type to hold onto idle hope. She knew that her father wouldn't drive all the way over to a hole like this, even if it were for a classic Harley-Davidson WL. He was a city man. So was Max. So were all of them, really. Max never knew why they had to move away. The decision seemed to have been made overnight. One day at dinner, she was told that they would be moving to a town, somewhere in Indiana. Neil had gotten a job offer there. They were just figuring out the logistics, selling the house, buying a new one. She had a feeling it had something to do with Billy's summer camp, but her mother wouldn't say anything about that. By the end of the summer, they arrived at a small house with one bathroom on Old Cherry Road and Max wondered what job her stepdad could have possibly been offered that had made this radical lifestyle change worthwhile.  
  
//  
  
Mike's House was a large structure at the end of Maple Street. Max looked over its gray-green paneling from where she stood by the side of the road. Should she ring the bell? The note said to meet them in the backyard. Max wondered how a house with this much lawn needed a backyard, but decided she wasn't the one to judge. Instead, she decided to see if there was a way around the house to get to the garden. As she approached the left side, she heard a pair of voices that did not belong to any of the boys.  
"-thought about it but- I think it's best if we take some time. We can still hang out and stuff, but- it sounds like we both have a lot on our plate and we haven't quite figured out what it is we have yet." There was a long silence. Max peaked her head around the corner and caught sight of Jonathan Byers. ‘Billy's new best friend,' she thought. Next to him, leaning against the brick wall was a girl who Max recognized as Mike's older sister. The girl gazed down at the muddy grass beneath their shoes, seeming lost in thought.  
"I don't know," she sighed, "I just- that's what we did last time and-" She paused.  
"I don't want to be here next year with the same questions." There was another drawn silence.  
"Questions like..." Max bit down her lip, growing uncomfortable with her own eavesdropping and piped a rushed "Excuse me. Hi." Both teenagers jumped up, staring wide-eyed in Max'direction. She gave them a cautious wave.  
"I'm Max. I was just looking for the backyard. I'm a friend of Mike." She stated sheepishly. Nancy blinked.  
"Eh, yeah- it's just this way. The gate is open. You can just- walk in. I think they're waiting for you." She replied, wrapping her arms around herself. She was only wearing a vest, but it seemed that they had been standing out here in the cold for quite some time already.  
"Thanks," Max mumbled and awkwardly moved past the two teenagers. She felt their eyes follow her all the way until she shut the gate behind her.  
  
When she turned around and took the Wheeler's backyard in for the first time, she understood where the nickname Hidden Glade had come from. The yard formed a small clearing, surrounded by golden brown aspen of varying sizes. The way in which the trees reached up like a wall of rusting leaves had a mystical quality to it. As if this garden was somehow separate from the rest of Hawkins or the world for that matter, it's own little ecosystem.  
  
The garden itself contained a few well-kept flower beds, although the flowers in them seemed native rather than planted. At this time of year, the yard's color palette consisted mostly of greens and browns, alternated by a late-blooming butterfly weed or a purple coneflower. In a sweeping curve through the flower beds, a cobblestone path lend up to a wooden shed, at the far right side of the garden.

The boys were nowhere to be seen.

Max turned towards the house. Through a big window, she could see, who she assumed to be Mike's father, sitting back in an armchair, watching television. Max could just distinguish the players on the screen from where she was standing and she wondered if it could be the same match Billy had on before she left. But maybe it was another game or a rerun or an entirely different sport altogether. Whichever way it was didn't matter because suddenly Max noticed a sound coming from behind her. A shouted whisper it seemed, just too quiet to make out. When she turned around, there was still no one else in the garden or at least so she thought. That was until she noticed the shed door was now slightly ajar. She took a few steps left, to get a better view and sure enough, there was Dustin in the creek of the door, agitatedly gesturing her to come closer. She threw a final glance at the man behind the television (who did not seem to be aware whatsoever of any girl who was potentially snooping into his garden), and she took off, down the path, board clenched underneath her arm. The door opened further as she drew closer to the shed and she was beckoned inside.

The door fell shut behind her. There was only one small window, that spilled a cool strip of light over the rather spacious surface of the shed. The walls were hung with various tools, most of them looking like they hadn't been used for the past decade.   
  
"You came!" Dustin beamed.  
"You're late." Mike countered rather sternly. Max greeted them with a sigh that condensed into a small cloud.  
"Yeah, I know. I got kinda lost on the way here." That was a lie.  
"Why are you wearing _two_ scarves ?" Dustin asked eyebrows quirked at Max's wrapped state of being. She quickly stripped herself of the first one and instead of answering the question she replied: "Why are we in a shed?" The boys shared a fateful look before they returned their attention to Max.  
"We want to make an offering," Mike announced, eminently. Max's eyebrows knitted, eyeing each of them with great suspicion.  
"Like- what?" She asked, uneasily. "Are you gonna kill something?" Dustin stared at her in horror.  
"Ew, no!" Mike yelled.  
"We were going to ask you to join our party!" Lucas exclaimed.  
  
Oh.  
  
As in... offer her... be become a member.  
With no man or beast slaughter involved  
(she hoped).

Max inspected each of their faces, but it seemed like they were serious.  
"Really?" she asked, just to be sure.  
"Yeah!" Dustin piped. Lucas shot her a toothy grin, as if to say: ‘I told you so.' All three of them look at her expectantly. There was a voice in her head that wanted to scoff, roll her eyes like she would have done at the start of the year and sneer at the fact that these little nerds thought that she would want to join their ‘Party'.  
But the other part of her really wanted this. The more time she spend with the boys, the less silly the whole idea of a Party had seemed to her. It was just how they related to each other. She had to admit to herself that part of her resentment towards their guild had been due to her own insecurity. Up until that point, it had always made her feel like an outsider. Sometimes literally, when she had to sit on the other side of a door while they deliberated. They were a closed, self-sufficient circle that she never fully belonged to, up until now. The circle had opened and finally, there was a place for her.  
  
A shy smile broke onto her freckled face. This, this right here, this was good. She would not let her pride take that away from her.  
Lucas seemed to notice the lightness on her face and raised his eyebrows hopefully.  
"So… What do you say?" He asked, shifting a little as he spoke. Max's smile broke into a full grin.  
"Yeah," she said quietly.  
"You want to join the party?" Dustin asked, already bouncing on his feet.  
" _Yeah_ ," Max repeated, louder this time. The tension that seemed to have been hanging between the children deflated into a fit of excited giggles.  
"Awesome," Mike buzzed, turning around to reach behind him for something that was tucked away on the shelves.  
"That means we can start the ceremony."  
"Sorry, what?" Max insisted. Mike looked up from the packet of paper he had pulled out.  
"The Initiation." He explained. "To become an official member of the Party." Max eyed the bundled stack of paper in Mike's hand and shot a concerned glance over at Lucas.  
"Okay?" She replied, still holding onto the boy's gaze as if it were a spud pole.  
"We'll have to go down to the basement, follow me." He led them out of the shed, locking the door behind them and set course toward the house, the Party following his lead down the cobblestone path.  
  
"Do you guys do this every time you get a new party member?" Max whispered to Lucas as they trailed slightly behind the other two boys. Lucas shrugged sheepishly.  
"Well, you're the first one to be initiated after the formation, to be honest."  
Max frowned. "What about El?"  
"We haven't gotten the chance to initiate her yet. For the longest time, we thought she had disappeared into the Upside Down. Or died, maybe. And well... Hopper is still not letting her outside. Not until it's safe, he says." Max mulled over Lucas' words as they stepped into the house. It shouldn't have made her feel smug that she would be an official party member before El was. But she couldn't help it. It had really stung, the way Mike had rejected to her when they were in the gymnasium, claiming that El had been the last missing piece to their friend group. It also hurt when Eleven had pushed past her, not even bothering to say so much as ‘hi' before she darted over to Joyce. Only then did Max realize how badly she actually wanted to be a part of this little group, including El. She just wanted to be liked by someone other than her parents.  
  
//  
  
The next few hours were filled with a series of quite remarkable rituals. That's really the only way to put it. First,

Mike made her take an oath (which involved spit (ew) ) where she also had to recite all of the party rules (There were a few odd ones, like Walkie-Talkie etiquette and a rule on the distribution of nilla wafers (double ew) in times of scarcity. Max felt sure that there was a story behind that one, along with another few that I won't get into right now). For the whole duration of this pledge, she had to keep her hand on the stack of paper from the shed, which turned out to be the Party's field guide and law book. In addition, Dustin found an old wizard's hat from a few Halloweens ago and made Max wear it during the ceremony. After she had officially been sworn into the Party, there were still a few other steps to complete her initiation. Most importantly, they had to create her D&D character. Max wanted to be a time traveler, but the boys insisted that there was no such thing as time travel in the rural mountains where their campaigns took place. Max found it ridiculous that there were restrictions on a fantasy world, where everything should be possible, but she didn't voice any of these thoughts. In the end, Max settled for the role of Arsonist. She would be a former dame (which, as it turns out, is the female equivalent of a knight) of Avem Terris, who had been ostracized after she was cursed by a Petramic dragon tribe. On one of her many quests, she had to steal a dragon's egg to save herself from starvation, but by eating from the egg, she had gained the ability to breathe and invoke fire. However, this newly gained power was a curse more than it was a blessing because the fire she created burned at her throat and her skin, leaving her riddled with scars. As time went on, she had learned to control her abilities and had now joined the Party, determined to use her powers for good.  
  
"No, No," Max said while Lucas was drawing up her character. "That's way too red."  
"But it's supposed to be like fire." They decided that another effect of the curse had been that her sleek dark hair had turned a flaming red.  
"But my hair is way more orange-brown."  
"That doesn't matter. We don't look like our characters either. It's not like Will has a beard like Will the Wise does, but- that's part of the fun. That you get to be someone else." Max let out a semi-convinced hum. They were the experts, she supposed.  
"It's not that important right now anyway. When Will is better, he'll draw you exactly right." Mike insisted.  
"So when is the next campaign?" Max asked, looking up from Lucas' artwork.  
"Well, maybe in a week or two. We'll have to come up with a story and write you and El in as well, so that might take some time."  
"El?" Max asked, ashamed to feel her heart sink a just little. "I thought you said Hopper wasn't letting her out." Mike's face crunched up in a conflicted scowl.  
"Well, when I called yesterday he said he'd think about it, but- he hasn't called back yet. But he promised to let us know by tomorrow morning at the very latest, so there's still hope."  
  
"Mike you skipped over something, I think." Dustin jumped in. Mike stared back at him with a dispersed frown.  
"The _Mission_?" Dustin urged. " _Tomorrow_?" Something seemed to slot together in Mike's head.  
"OH!" He blurted. "YES! We almost forgot." He spun off and rumbled around through the basement before he pulled out a badly wrapped rectangular box, big enough to fit a two-liter coke bottle. It was about the same weight, Max noticed when he handed the package over to her.  
'What the hell?' she thought, examining the poor wrapping that the boys had clearly done themselves. What did any of this have to do with El or the mission they were gushing about?  
"What is this?" She asked, casting a glance around at her new Party members, who each stared back with wide grins.  
"Just open it!" Lucas beamed. Max smiled and tore the paper away. Out of the wrapping, she pulled a brand new _Realistic_ Walkie-Talkie, still sealed up in its box. She stared at it, speechless before she managed to look up at the boys.  
"This is for me?" She asked, not knowing quite what to say.  
"Of course! You need one now that you're officially a part of the party. For our missions and stuff." Dustin chimed.  
"What, like monster hunting?" Max grinned as Dustin took the box out of her hands, already gushing about all the different functions as he peeled the seal off the packaging.  
"Among other things, yes," Mike replied. "But tomorrow night, we're going to try to contact Will and we want you to be there as well."  
"Wait, how are you going to contact him?"  
"With El. She can find people with her _mind_." Dustin said like it was the coolest thing in the world. Which- okay, it kind of is.  
"But we know where he is, right?" Max uttered. Mike rolled his eyes. Max made a mental note to start doing that less because eye-rolls were a lot less fun when you're on the receiving end.  
"Yes," Mike explained, patiently, "but no one is letting us see him and he's not picking up his radio, so we need to find another way to talk to him." Max wanted to ask why they were so desperate to talk to him. There was probably a reason why Will wasn't allowed visitors. Or maybe he just didn't want to talk and was that the reason why he wasn't picking up, but she decided against voicing these concerns. Asking as many questions as she already had over the span of that afternoon alone made her feel kind of dumb and she didn't want them to think they made a mistake by initiating her.  
"Okay," Dustin said, finally managing the undo the Walkie-Talkie of its packaging, "So you turn it on right here- Wait, is this… OH. It's doesn't have batteries. Mike! Mike. Do you have batteries down here?"  
"In the drawers-" Mike replied and pointed to Dustin's right, but just at that moment, a woman's voice called from upstairs.  
  
"Mike! Dinner's ready!" The boys groaned.  
"Erm- okay, so we'll meet here at my place around half seven. It's gonna be a sleepover, so bring like- a sleeping bag and a toothbrush and stuff-"  
  
"Michael!"  
  
"COMING!" Mike howled and turned back to the party.  
"We can talk the rest out over the radio." He said before he bolted up the stairs. Max looked over at the other guys, who shrugged and followed Mike's lead. She stood alone at the bottom of the stairs for a few seconds more, staring down at the radio in her hand, before she too started to climb up the steps.  
  
Above her, she heard the voice of a mother talking to her children's friends. You know what voice I mean.  
"-known Mike had you over, I would have made more lasagna." Mike's mother paused when she saw Max rise out of the basement.  
"Hey, you must be Max! I don't think we've met. I'm Karen" She said, smiling sweetly as she extending her hand to Max.  
"Yeah, that's me." She replied, sheepishly.  
"I heard you're also coming to the sleepover tomorrow, is that right?"  
"Erm- Yes. I mean-" She cast a quick glance at the boys, "I'll have to check with my parents, but I'd love to be over." Karen shot her a toothy grin.  
"Lovely. I always tell Mike that he should play more with girls, so- We're glad to have you."  
This offhanded comment made Mike want to bang his head against a wall and put his mum down the garbage disposer, but no one seemed to pay any mind to his embarrassment.  
  
"But Max is not really a girl," Dustin said. Max shot him an offended frown.  
"What do you mean I'm not a _girl_?"  
"Like- you're cool."  
"Girls can be cool," Karen said, eyeing the kids allusively. Yeah, alright. Thanks for your two cents, woman.  
"Yeah," Lucas added, "Like Max." and grinned at her.  
"See mom, it's not that I don't hang out with girls. I just only hang out with _cool_ people."  
"That's news to me," Nancy said as she pulled the back door shut.  
"Nancy, come on." Her mother sighed.  
"Really, Nance?" Mike retorted, ignoring his mother, "Where did you go all afternoon? Hanging out with some _cool people_ , I assume?" Nancy's face flushed a bright crimson while she tried to push her hair down.  
"Well," Mrs. Wheeler jumped in, clapping her hands together. "I'm sorry, but I'm going to have to kick you out guys before the food gets cold. Will you all get home safely?" The kids nodded and choired a sweet ‘yes, ma'am'.  
  
"How are you gonna carry that home?" Dustin asked when they were out on the street.  
"I guess I'll just have to hold it while I skate." Max shrugged. Lucas pulled a pained expression.  
"Are you sure? They're pretty heavy. We could ask if Mike has a bag that you can borrow."  
"Well, then I still have to carry it in the bag." There was a short pause.  
"I guess you're right," Dustin said.  
"Well, I'll see you guys tomorrow." And just like that, he took off.  
  
//  
  
It took Max a considerably longer time to skate home than it took her to get to Mike's place. Lucas had been right. After a few minutes, the radio got pretty heavy and she had to stop every so often to trade it back and forth between her hands. By the time she got home, her family was already gathered around the dinner table.  
"Max," He mother sighed, shoulders slumping when she entered the kitchen.  
"You said you'd call."  
"Oh- sorry, I forgot."  
"What's that you got there?" Neil asked as he chewed down his potatoes, eyeing at the package Max had dumbed down on the phone stand.  
"It's a Walkie-Talkie," Max answered, shrugging her coat off. "I got it from the boys."  
For the first time since she entered, Billy looked up from his plate.  
"Can I see it?" Neil asked, putting his fork down. Max handed the box over to her stepdad, who inspected it attentively from under his furrowed brow.  
"This is a _Realistic_ , Max. These are at least $50. How did those kids get this?" Max only just realized just how expensive this gift must have been and how naive she had been to just accept it without any question other than: ‘Is this for me?'  
"I- I don't know. They all have them." Neil put the radio down on the counter behind him.  
"If their parents bought it, we'll have to pay them back." He decided before he returned to his food. Max felt Billy's pointed stare on her as she sat down, no matter how hard she tried to ignore him. He had an odd way of making his presence known. ‘I'll be happy not to have to deal with your bull tomorrow.' She thought to herself and remembered the question at hand.  
  
"Oh- we're having a sleepover at Mike's house tomorrow. Can I go?" She asked. Susan shot Max a dazed look.  
"On a Sunday?" She asked. Max went it over in her head.  
"Yeah?" Tomorrow was indeed a Sunday.  
"When you have school the next day?" Max shrugged. She hadn't even thought about that.  
"No, Maxine."  
"Mom-" She started, but her mother cut her off.  
"Max, this not open to discussion. I can't tell their parents what to do, but you are not staying up late when you have school the next morning. That's the end of this."  
She paused, pushed some cauliflower onto Max' plate and added: "I'm sure you'll get to go next time."  
Max sunk down into her seat, pricking aimlessly at her vegetables. She didn't _care_ for next time! They had a Mission! A dumb and kind of pointless mission, but that wasn't the point. El was gonna be there. Max had decided that she would use tomorrow to try to befriend El. Sure, they hadn't been off to a good start, but honestly they had only seen each other for what- minutes at most. Surely the initiation and the mission would bring them closer together. Surely she would  _finally_ feel like she belonged here in Hawkins.

But of course, Max couldn't explain any of this to her mother. She would just want to take her temperature when she started talking about telepathy and otherworldly demon dogs. There was no chance in hell that she was missing out on their first outing with her as an official Party member, but she was also wise enough to know that once her mother said the magic words 'that's the end,' it really did mean that the topic was closed off, sealed up and send off to Canada, never to be visited again.  
She caught Billy's smirk out of the corner of her eye. She turned to him and shot him an annoyed glare.  
‘Enjoying the show?' she thought, raising her eyebrows.  
Billy put on a devilish smirk, licking at the inside of his lips.  
  
_Thoroughly_

  
After dinner, Susan loaded the groceries into the car and hugged everyone goodbye. After she left, Neil and Max played around with the radio for a while, until it was time for her to go to bed. Every time she looked up, she found Billy staring back at her and she wondered what he was getting out of this game.  
  
//  
  
The next morning, the three of them went to church. When they still live in San Francisco, Neil never went with them. He kept protesting that the priest Susan liked was pushing her own liberal agenda, instead of teaching what the Bible said. But he seemed to like the priest in Hawkins, which meant that every Sunday morning, the whole Hargrove family would be found in the pews. Whenever Max glanced over at Billy, she saw him staring off somewhere. At the ceiling, the pillars, at someone picking their nose in the rows in front of them. But he didn't seem to listen anymore. He never seemed fully there.

Because Susan had taken Neil's car, Billy had to be the one to drive, which had been hell in and of itself. Neil had a great distaste for the Camaro with its cushy leather and the little available leg space. This was topped by the sheer horror he held for Billy's reckless driving behavior. All in all, it was a very peaceful and harmonious way to celebrate God's day of rest.

At lunch, everyone still dressed up in their good clothes, the phone rang. Neil put his croissant down and got up. From the nature of the conversation, it was clear that it was a call from work.

‘No, I don't have any commitments.'  
‘Alright, erm-' Pause. ‘Yes, I understand.'  
‘Okay, I can be there in about- 20. 30 at the very most.'  
'Alright.'  
'I'll make sure to keep them out. See you in a bit.' He put the phone down and took a long deep breath. He had a habit of drawing his bottom lip up between his teeth while he was thinking, which made it look like he had a mustache for a mouth, just like some cartoon characters do.

"Sorry, guys." He sighed, "There's an emergency at work. I have to come in right away."  
He disappeared for a while and returned in more comfortable clothing.  
"Billy, I'm going to need your car." He said as he pulled his coat back on. Billy frowned.  
"But I need it myself."  
"Hm, yeah? Like for what?" Neil dared. Billy swallowed, glaring at his father from down in his seat.  
"Gonna see some friends." He mumbled, dodging his father's eyes.  
"No, you're going to watch over Max while I'm gone. Give me the keys."  
"What? No!" Billy protested. "It's my fucking car. You can't just _take it_."  
"Ey! Language!" Max' eyes darted back and forth between the two. She saw her chance.

"It's fine." She insisted, "I can just go to Mike's and Billy can go do his thing." Billy's head snapped in her direction, thrown off for a second, but immediately aligned with her proposal.  
"Yeah, she can just go to that sleepover thing and everyone's happy."  
"No, Max. You heard your mother. Tomorrow is school. You're not going." Both teens slumped in their seat, glaring at the other as if it was their fault.  
"Billy" Neil repeated, offensively calm. "Keys." He extended his hand, waiting for Billy to cave. " _Keys. Now_."  
Billy reached into the back pocket of his jeans and threw them at his father, who caught them effortlessly.  
"Thank you," Neil said, pulling his wallet out of the inside of his jacket. He took out a 20 dollar bill and put it down on the table, between the plates and the bread rolls.  
"In case I'm not back in time for dinner, you guys can order a pizza." Within minutes he was packed and out of the door. The siblings sat quiet and sulking at the table. Billy grunted and leaned back into his chair, tipping it over onto its two hind legs. He reached into the pocket of his shirt, got out a cigarette and- was that his old zippo? She thought he'd lost that. He positioned his smoke in the corner of his mouth and flipped the light on.  
"Right, let me be very clear," Billy grumbled through sealed lips as he tried to get the light under his fag. "You're not going to that nerd party." He inhaled deeply and pulled the cigarette from between his lips, clenching it in the crook of his index and his middle finger.  
"What do you care?" Max glowered from behind her curtain of red locks. "Just seconds ago you wanted me to go."  
"You heard him," Billy snapped. "If you sneak out, I'll get the blame and I'll be the one who's gonna pay for the shit you pull and that's not happening, you understand? You're staying here." He shoved the cigarette back between his lips, sucked and puffed out another cloud. There was a tense silence, rubbing up between them as Billy filled the kitchen up with smoke.  
" _Fine_." Max snarled and jumped out of her seat, leaving Billy alone at the table, hopefully, to choke on his own dickness and die.

She stomped down the hallway, up the stairs, frenzied that she was so close to being part of the Mission, yet Billy was keeping her from going for his own selfish reasons. A small voice in her head told her that it was not just Billy, but she didn't want to hear that. She just wanted to be angry and unreasonable. Like Billy himself seemed allowed to be. When she walked into the room, her radio was creaking, muffled animated voices flickering through the static. She picked it up from where she dropped it onto her bed and pressed the red button to hold it up to her ear.  
"Guys, what's going on? Over." What she got back were only snippets of what sounded like Mike, wavering in and out of reach. She flicked to the other channel.  
"Dustin? Helloo, Dustin?" He lived relatively closer, so she got most of her updates through him, but right now, she got nothing but white noise. She flipped back to channel B.  
"-ou copy? Max?" She sighed. Finally.  
"I copy, what's going on?"  
"Mike just heard back from Hopper. El is coming! The Mission is on!" Max felt her heart sink through her feet. Everything was working out perfectly. Neil and her mom were gone. El would be there. There was just this tiny problem which was Billy 'King Mouthbreather' Hargrove blocking the way.

Why couldn't she just have this? Why was Billy always holding her back and taking nice, harmless things away from her? Why did he have to be such a pathetic excuse of a brother?

Max had never fully admitted to herself that part of her had been excited at the idea of having an older brother. Every only child either secretly or explicitly dreams about what it would be like to have a sibling. And Max, she always wanted a cool brother who would hang out with her and take her skating and buy her ice cream afterward. When she first met Billy, he was even cooler than she had imagined. He had curly beach hair in that awkward stage of growing out, where it was neither long nor short and couldn't really be styled properly. Then one day he showed up with this earring that got infected and almost made him lose his left ear.

Sadly for her, he didn't like skating, but he was a surfer. Sadly for him, there were no waves in San Francisco, so his board was tucked away in the back of their garage. They sold it when they moved to Hawkins after he and his father had a big fight, yelling that they wouldn't be dragging a useless piece of plywood to the other side of the country and that Billy could buy a new board when he fancied moving back to Santa Monica by himself.

Billy's hostile attitude towards her didn't wear off as Max tried to get closer to him. He always looked at her as if she were a stray dog that he needed to shake off before it followed him into his home. For a while, Max felt hurt. Disappointed. She wondered what she might have done wrong. But as the weeks went on, she came to realize that Billy didn't want to be a brother. Not even a bad one. He wanted as little as possible to do with the family they were building together. And Max stopped looking for his approval. When he sneered, she would bite back. She acted as if she was just as repulsed by him as he was by her until the pretense turned into their shared reality.

Almost as if he had read her mind, Dustin's voice cracked through the speaker.  
"Are you still on for tonight?" She hesitated but decided to tell the truth.  
"Billy is giving me hell, but I'll find a way out."  
And so that's what she did.  
  
//  
  
It was around seven when Max crept down the hallway up to Billy's bedroom door. She really hadn't had to. She could already hear Van Halen blasting through the walls from her bedroom, ensuring her that there was no chance in hell that he would hear her while she tried to sneak out. She tiptoed back to her room, pulled on the backpack and swung her wrapped sleeping bag over her shoulder. At the very last she picked up the radio and spoke into channel C:

"Dustin. Report." There was a soft rustle before she heard back.  
"Copy. Over."  
"I'm gonna go for it. Over."  
"Got it. Report back in five."

Never had she walked down those stairs as cautiously as she had then. She glanced over her shoulder one final time before she pushed the front door open and snook off into the night.

The door fell back in its lock with a soft click. For a lost few seconds, she stood motionless on the porch, amazed that the reality of sneaking out of the house had been so easy. No wonder that Billy did it all the time. This was a children's game.  
With newfound confidence, she walked up to the shed to get her skateboard. But when she pried the lock open and looked at the hook that was supposed to hold up her board, it wasn't there.  
  
Fuck.  
  
"Looking for something?" A voice called from behind her back. Max closed her eyes.

Fuck.  
Fuck. Fuck. _Fuck_.

Her hand curled up, short nails digging into her palm. She felt like she could stab something. Or someone, more like it.  
The longer she waited, the longer the silence went on and she knew that Billy wanted her to turn around. And so she turned, with hatred crunching up her face. He wore a smug grin, although there had been something else in his eyes. It wasn't disappointment, but more like- boredom. Like he expected more from her.  
"You really have to get up earlier if you want to outsmart me, twerp." He said, slow and indifferent. He hung onto the board that he pressed into the soft earth. Through his nose, he puffed out a loud breath that condensed in the freezing air.  
"M'right," He sighed, "Playtime is over. Get back inside." He was already approaching the front door when he realized that Max wasn't following. He turned around and gave her a few seconds before he spoke again.  
"Listen _shit_ , if you get in now, I won't rat you out, 'right? This ends here."

'This ends here.' he had said.  
But he had to know that that phrase only works for her mom.

"No." She glowered and oh, if looks could kill. He held her stare for a few beats more before he turned around and sauntered back through the open door.  
Max' shoulders slumped. she stood there, all packed up in the doorway of the shed when she came to realize that she was absolutely powerless against Billy. Without her board, she had no way to escape, no choice but to go back inside. I mean, she could walk, sure. But that would take almost an hour. Billy would catch up with her in a matter of seconds and God knows what he would do when he did. She breathed down the tears that had started to well up in her eyes.  
'No,' she told herself, remembering her father's words. Crying is the last resort. Crying is what you do when everything else has failed. No moment sooner. So she swallowed it down and started walking.

Every step she took in the direction of that house felt horribly wrong, but she paced into the hallway nevertheless, teeth grinding and fists clenched. Her steps halted at the gaping frame of the kitchen door. Billy sat on the table, legs spread and board resting atop of his thighs, his eyes fixed on Max.  
She wanted to be angry. She tried so hard to keep her shoulders square and her eyebrows lowered, but her posture slowly shrunk under his harrowing glare. It was scary how easily Billy could make you feel so small. So defenseless. Almost as if he could turn himself into a thunderstorm, clouding the air with lighting clashing out of his eyes, thunder bellowing from deep within of his stomach. Inhuman and merciless.

And Max was scared.  
She had seen what he was capable of when his eyes shone like that.  
She was defenseless  
and they both knew it.

"Let me go."  
It came as out more of a plea than a thread. She stared into his eyes the way a wounded deer looks into the headlights of a range rover, bracing herself for impact. But to her surprise, some flickers of light seemed to break through Billy's clouded vision. She waited for him to strike. But he didn't.  
"We both know I can't do that." He said. He cleared his throat. Slowly but surely, he straightened himself, pushing the board out of his lap. His feet fell to the ground with a soft, reverbing click. He rested his hips back against the table, hands wrapping around the edge on either side.

"Why do you care?" He asked.  
"Why do you care _so_ much for about a dumb slumber party." He crooked his head to the side, locking onto her gaze.  
'Because they're my friends,' Max thought, casting her eyes down, ‘Because we have a Mission together. They trusted me. They let me in.  
‘They make me feel wanted.'  
She stayed quiet.

"Why is this so important to you? Hm?"  
"Fucking **ANSWER ME** when I ask you something! YOU HEAR!?" His hands crashed down on the table top.

Max ducked into herself, her shoulders pulling all the way up to her ears.  
Stop. Stop.  
Go. _Away_.

Billy pushed himself away from the table and sauntered up to the threshold. His teeth were clenched into a wry scowl. He blew a slow, wheezing breathe out through his nose.  
Max closed her eyes, trying to block Billy out when she could feel him move into her personal space. It felt horrible. Like every inch of her skin was screaming for him to back off.

"What are you fucks up to?" He hummed and his voice felt like yogurt dripping down her neck. Max wanted to step back, but Billy pulled the door behind her shut. She was trapped between him and the kitchen door.  
"I'm not stupid, you know?" He hissed, his face only inches away from hers. His breath smelled vaguely of rootbeer.  
"Whatever creepy shit you fucks are scheming, you stay out of it. You hear me? Or I might let your mom know what really happened last week. What do you say?" Max felt like someone just broke an egg on the top of her head. She could almost feel the cold, slimy substance dribble down her spine.

She always feared Billy for his force and his reckless impulsive behavior, but she never deamed him capable of using his knowledge as a thread.

When they came home, on the night the gate was closed, Billy had obediently failed to mention anything about stolen car keys or the anesthetic. Max assumed it had been his pride that kept him silent. He let Max do most of the talking and disappeared into his room as soon as he saw the chance to. Things had been 'easier' between them. Not good, but at least he kept his distance, left her alone for the most part. Especially the first few days they rarely exchanged any words. How silly had she been to think that be would put that night into the box of 'things to be forgotten and never discussed again'. That he wouldn't go searching for an explanation or use Max' actions against her. While she thought she'd won, he secretly slipped the events of that night into a different folder, one labeled 'supernatural blackmail' and he was ready to pull it out the moment he would need it.

She was cornered.  
"You've been keeping secrets, Max." He murmured. "You know those are dangerous."  
"You know nothing-" She tried, but Billy pushed her back against the door. "Believe me, I know more than you think." His eyes shone with a menacing twinkle. "I'm telling you one last time. Those kids, are trouble. Stay. the hell. away from them." Billy waited, scanning Max for a reaction.  
"Don't make this harder than it has to be." He added in a low whisper.  
"You don't even know them," Max said, eyes locked on the path of floor between them.  
"I know enough, okay?"  
"Yeah? Like what?" Max threw back, head jumping up to meet Billy. He snorted.  
"I know that one of them likes to cover his house in some kind of paper maze and that they keep drugs and nail bats around. Honestly, Max, does that sound like the kind of people you should be hanging out with?" Okay, he had a point there. Max could kind of see how, from an outsiders perspective, that might be a bit weird. But if you consider that there are _actual_ interdimensional monsters on the loose in this town, it'd actually not be a bad idea to keep the people with the bear traps and nail bats as your friends. But she couldn't tell any of that to BIlly. Despite what he claimed to know. She had to work around it.

"You promised to leave us alone," Max said, obviously to no avail. she was just trying to stall him as she figured something out. There had to be a way out.  
Billy let out a humorless laugh.  
"That's cute. That you thought so. But I don't see any bats right now, so I don't think that applies anymore."  
"Well, you still can't tell me who to be friends with. I'm my own person."  
"Really?" Billy hummed. "I think I just did." He took a step back and gave Max another look over.  
"Listen, I really don't care whether or not you're gonna tell me what was going on that night or what you're up to now. I probably don't wanna know. But tonight you're my responsibility, so you're not going anywhere." He reached into his pocket and lit a Camel. He wasn't even allowed to smoke indoors, but he really liked to do it whenever their parents were away. Sometimes Max wondered whether he did it because Hawkins was too cold to go outside for a smoke or if it was just an act of deviance, to piss on Neil's throne when he wasn't around.

"Now if you'll excuse me." He said, tucking the pack back into his pocket, "I have somewhere to be." Max didn't realize what was happening until Billy strolled back and pulled her board off the table.  
"Wait- You're _leaving_?" Billy turned back, blowing out a long, pestering stream of smoke.  
"Well, I'm not going to waste away a perfectly good Sunday night, am I?" Max's jaw dropped.  
"What happened to me being your responsibility?"  
"That's why I'll be taking this with me." He explained, wiggling the skateboard suggestively. "To make sure you don't get any ideas."  
Max's mind went full speed. This was not part of the plan. She had to do something. Now. Billy stepped forward, reaching for the door, but Max planted her feet, blocking his way out of the kitchen. Billy spared her one lingering glance, cigarette hanging loosely between his lips. Then he pushed her aside, effortlessly as if he opened a curtain and strolled out of the kitchen.

Max stood nailed to the floor. Soaking in her own helplessness, she listened to the sound of a zipper moving up. She tried to search her mind for a way to get her board back, to get out of here but she seemed to hit a wall. There were no hidden passes, no escape routes. This was it. Rationally she knew there was nothing within her power she could do to help herself.  
But she wasn't Max Mayfield if she didn't push back 'til the very end.

"This is not fair!" She called, stomping into the hallway. Billy glanced up, equally fed up with the situation. When would this midget stop bucking?  
"Don't sweat it. I'm back in an hour."He murmured, "And- If you're not here when I come back, I'll make sure you and your freak friends don't see the light of day. You understand?" He pulled his collar up, ready to move out of the door when Max called over his shoulder:  
"At least I have friends!" Billy stopped. A slow, wry grin grew onto his lips and he turned around, musing over the furious little person in front of him.  
"What do you know about _friends_. " He chuckled, tongue poking out from between his lips. There was a heavy pause before he added: "D'you ever hear from Andy and Sandy?" His tone was sugary sweet, but his face was smug and loathsome.

Max felt the color drain from her face.  
"Sarah." She corrected, her voice softer than it had been just moments ago.  
"At least you still know _her_ name. Bet they've forgotten you a long time ago.  
"I don't think they've called at all since the start of school. Have they now?" There was something so- malicious in Billy's grin. Like he was actually enjoying this. Thriving on it, even. Basking in Max' silence, he hung his thumbs in his pockets, smiling down at her and whispered.  
"You can try to keep filling that hole Max, but this entire shit town won't be big enough to fill it. This place is a joke. And these people you call your friends, they're crazy. Each and every one of them. That Byers family most of all."  
Max was shaking. She didn't know if it was anger or hurt or just pure hatred, but he was wrong. She knew it.  
"You never heard from your 'friends' either, did you?" She cried out, her voice trembling.

"You haven't mentioned that Cooper kid since we left."

As soon as she spoke the words, Max knew she had made a mistake. And a big one too. Everything about Billy changed. What had been a dark, menacing frown mere seconds ago, had seamlessly melted into a baffled, broken contortion. His eyes grew wide and blue. Every bit of anger he had seemed to have vanished into a deep, sorrowful terror.

Max stopped breathing. She could only stare.

Looking like he did then, reminded Max of an anxious hamster. Or smaller even, a snail. Hiding behind a solid but frail shell that crumbled as soon as you stepped on it. And now he laid there on the dirt, stabbed by the splinters of his own shield. Underneath that tough exterior, he was nothing but a slimy mollusk, made of soft meat and mucus. It was pathetic. She cracked him. She had found the weak flesh on his underbelly and stabbed it with a rusty pork skewer, exactly where she knew it would hurt.

For a second she felt like she really saw him. Billy, in all the disgusting, festering scabs and the hurt he carried on his shoulders. It lastest for a split second. A moment, thrown off by a feeling he thought he'd forgotten. But here's the thing about hurt. It works like a boomerang. When you try to throw it someone's way, it just comes right back to you. And it will smack you in the face.

Out of the cracks in Billy's eyes pored a murderous fury. His back hunched, his fists clenched and his eyes washed over with the familiar swallow rage, only tenfold. Whatever part of Billy had come to the surface was pushed back under and made place for a tidal wave of rage.  
"You have a _lot_ of nerve putting that name in your mouth." He growled. It truly was a growl, pushed out through bared teeth. The slug had made way for a grizzly bear. In a few strides, he was back in Max's face, but he didn't stop there. As if he walked through her, he pushed her into the nearest wall. Max gasped, in both shock and pain. The skateboard Billy had been holding fell to the ground.

"I don't care what you think you know, but I don't want to hear that name ever. again. You hear me?" His face was so close to her. She wouldn't look anywhere but his raging blue eyes and _oh_. If looks could kill. Max' death would have been slow, torturous and incredibly painful. The overstuffed backpack stabbed into Max' spine as Billy's hands gripped onto her shoulders, pressing her down against the wall.  
"Let me tell you something about those _friends_ of yours." He spat the word out like they were a nasty kind of vermin, like lice or roaches.  
"They don't like you. They never did. You know what happened? They saw an outcast, just like themselves and they flocked around you- not because they liked your skateboard or because they thought you were cool because you had a fucking high score or whatever. They pitied you. They're just using you to feel better about themselves." The words fell flat on Max' ears. No, he had it wrong. They were not like that.  
"You're lying!" She yelled, pushing back into Billy's grip.  
"I'm just telling it how it is, Max." He hissed, pushing harder until she cried out in pain.  
"Everyone's just out for their own gain. It's best you learn that at an early age."  
"SHUT UP!" Max cried and kicked Billy in the chin. It wasn't much, but it was enough to have Billy yelp and stumble backward.

Now was her chance.

Max was surprised by her own clarity of mind when she dived down to pull her board off the ground during Billy's moment of disorientation. But before she could make her escape, another hand grasped onto the board.  
"Not so fast." He hissed through gritted teeth, disheveled hair dangling in front of his eyes.  
"Let me _GO_!"

With one big lurch, Billy janked the board out of Max' hand. But hers was not the only grip that wasn't tight enough.

The board slammed into the wall with a splintering crash followed by a dull rattle when the board hit the ground. The wood had cracked down the middle, bending in slightly in towards the wheels. The silence that followed was gut wrecking. Neither of them dared to breathe. If Max had been able to tear her eyes from the appalling sight, she would have caught the look of sheer panic on Billy's face. It lingered for no more than a second before he sealed his mouth shut and straightened his features.  
"What the fuck did you do!" Max howled. She felt like someone was standing on her chest, pressing the air out of her lungs. Billy wore his tight indifference as a second nature.  
"Guess that proves my point." He said calmly. Max jumped him, clawing at his face, but he pushed her off as if she was nothing but an annoying fly.  
"Hey!" He bellowed and she shrunk into herself. "Cut it!" The two siblings stood across from each other, both panting, one with tears spilling down her cheeks.

"I'll be back in an hour," Billy said as he stepped back.  
"If you're not here when I get back, that's not the last thing I break." His voice was unreasonable steady while he said all of this. As if it was justice. As if it was right.  
He pulled the front door open and slammed it shut behind him.  
  
[Bored - Billie Eilish](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Q2WcdaF8uL8)  
The reverb of the lock seemed to crack something in Max' chest. Lost and hollow she stared down the hallway, at the place where he had stood. Somehow she couldn't believe that he had left. She didn't know that she hadn't deemed him capable of this kind of abuse. Sure, he had curse her out and sure, he had beaten people to pulp, but clearly he had more up his sleeve. Clearly he was completely and utterly heartless. Because who would break something so precious and walk out with no remorse? How dead inside does a person have to be?

Slowly Max leaned back into the wall and sunk down against it, dripping drown the ugly yellowish surface. Her sobs were the only thing that echoed through the empty rooms. She closed her eyes, just so she didn't have to look at the corpse of her most prized possession. Her dad had painted it for her. Her dad, who was thousands of miles away. Who she hadn't seen in months. Along with the people she used to call her friends. Because Billy was right. They called once, maybe twice after they moved here. But it was the summer holidays and they were in California. They drinking up every hour of sunlight, skating and laughing down at the ring while Max was unpacking boxes, fitting everything she owned into a room that was twice as small as her old one. One that looked out over a bunch of overwatered cone flowers instead of the humming streets of San Francisco.

Some truths come as epiphanies. They hit you in the back of the head like a spitball or a forgotten leaflet, thrown in your face by the breeze. But some truths grow on you, like a rash or a burn wound. By the time you realize you've been holding your hand in the flames, it's already too late. Your skin is hot red and blistering. These are the truths that take a lot longer to heal, because we don't treat them with the urgency that we're supposed to.

Billy's words fell into the last category. In the moment they seemed ridiculous and untrue, but now that Max was left alone with her agony and her thoughts, it carved its way into her mind. 'They don't care', she thought. 'They've got a life back there and they don't miss you. You're replaceable. Or worse even- superfluous.'  
Never had Max felt more alone than in that moment, locked up, locked in, staring down at the remains of her skateboard. She no longer tried to choke back the tears. They poured out in guttering sobs. The hurt took her over like an oil spill, soaking into every pore until she felt itchy and numb.  
Why did he have to take everything away from her?  
Why was he so set on making her absolutely miserable?  
He was a tidal wave, crushing down on everything she cared for without any sign of mercy and she was a small board, taken under by the weight of the water.  
He had threatened to break everything she owned before he walked out like the coward he was. As if he hadn't already. As if he hadn't already trashed everything he touched.  
Max pushed away the hot tears that burned out of her eyes.  
  
_Not if I get there first._  
  
She pushed herself up on shaky legs and stepped towards her broken board. With trembling hands, she grabbed onto it. Her thumb slid across the sand-like structure of the grip tape. As if it was a holy relique, she lifted it up above her head and smashed it into the wall with an animalistic cry. With a thunderous crack, half of the board flew across the room and crashed into cabinets on the opposite wall. Max didn't even look back to check if it was alright (it had only lost one drawer knob, but the board was in a lesser state). She slammed the remaining piece of her board against the wall another two or three times (with little effect) before she dropped it to the ground. She panted heavily staring at scratches she had left in the paint job. Her veins were pulsing. Her eyes were leaking through her shuttering breaths.

She didn't have to think anymore. Her legs didn't shake when they lead her up the stairs, into her room where the real wrecking began. Screaming like a madman, she ripped down every poster, threw over her furniture and emptied out every drawer she had. She threw and broke until the small place of sanctuary resembled how ripped she felt inside. Heaving and whimpering, she stood amidst a carpet of wreckage, one that she once called her bedroom. The static of her Walkie-Talkie was the only thing that broke through the silence.

She lifted her foot and stepped over a shattered picture frame of the four at them at Disney land. It was one of the few in which Billy seemed to smile, now bathing in a bed of broken glass. Max' feet carried her down the hallway, to a bedroom where a jukebox was still stuttering out the last bars of [House Of Pain](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=lyDH4DZ-qJY). She didn't pay it any mind, going straight to the vanity, where she quickly found what she was looking for. In the mirror, she caught a glance of a girl with wild red hair and even redder eyes. She didn't stay for long.

Back in her room, she pulled the cap off the bottle. Elegantly, as if she was leaving a Zorro slash, she sprayed four puffs of the cologne into the air. She grinned at the familiar musky scent that pricked her nose and looked out over the mess she made.  
  
Not if I get there first.  
  
Billy's casette had run out. The house was finally quiet. Now that she had beaten her rage out, Max felt drained and tired. She also realized that she didn't know what her next move was. Exhausted, like her arms were raised up by a string like a marionette, she lifted her hands to her face, rubbing at her eyes. Fuck man, she was 13. Why did she have to have a twelve-tear plan to get to a simple sleepover. The sleepover. It was her only real choice. She couldn't be here when Billy came back. It would basically be suicide and Max was down, but not  _that_ down. No thanks, if she could, she would live another day.

She hesitated, listening to the white noise coming out of the radio on her belt. 

"Max, where are you? Report." She bit her lip, tears welling back up. Billy's words were glowing red in the back of her mind.  _They only keep you around to feel better about themselves_. What if he was right?

"Max, for God's sake. Talk to me! Jesus Christ, if you're dead I'm gonna fucking kill you."

Fuck it. If they were using her, she wanted to be used. Anything was better than being alone.

She reached unhooked the radio from her belt.  
"Yes, this is Max. Over" She said, her voice cracking. When she released the button she heard Dustin's aggravated sigh.  
"Max, Jesus Christ, what took you so fucking long? Are you on your way?" Max swallowed, glancing around her room. What did she say?  
"Max? Hello? Do do you cop-"  
"Yes, I copy." She clicked.  
"I erm- there- there've been some complications, I-" She paused.  
"Can you come pick me up?"

Dustin didn't ask any questions when he found Max sitting red-eyed on her porch. She clung to his back as he cycled them back to Mike's house. As the distance between her and the house grew, so did the heavy feeling in her stomach. She might have won this round, but Billy would be back. And God knows what he would bring.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sooo that's it! Kudos to you for making it all the way to the end. I know it was a long read, but I didn't want to chop this up into smaller parts. It felt like it's own little narrative with climax and all and I didn't want to take away from that. Next chapter is also from Max pov but from there we get a little glimpse of what's going on in Billy's life. That's all I'm saying for now. I'm gonna go back and write on part 3. I hope to see you back then. Meanwhile my tumblr is @kingsandsaints. If you wanna chat, please come hang out with me lol. None of my friends watch Stranger Things and I'm desperate for a mutual to fan with. Thanks again for reading and hopefully until next time!


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